Voyager
by FantomBlack
Summary: At all times, the balance must be maintained. If a life is taken, another must be given in return. To repent for past transgressions, one must face their worst nightmares and persevere. Chapters 7 and 8 UP!
1. From a Place Called Misery

**Author's Notes: **

**Disclaimer: Escaflowne is not my property. I am not writing this for any sort of profit. **

**Some warnings: This story is romance/action/angst/horror. If you are easily offended, please be aware that this story is rated T for a reason. Thank you :)**

**-FantomBlack  
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**Voyager**

**Book 1 - Hitomi  
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**Chapter 1 - From A Place Called Misery**

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I wanted to die.

If I was honest with myself, I could say that I had wanted to for a long time now. I just wasn't able to find the opportunity to help myself.

How many days? How many hours? How many seconds had passed since my dreaming began? Yes, dreaming. Dreams of war and wings and magnificent Gods of destruction. I told myself this every day. Believing that it was reality was one mistake that I would never again repeat. I suppose that I couldn't really blame my mother for what she did. She acted like any sensible parent would have. To her, my recollections of the horror and devastation I witnessed in the world beyond the Earth sounded like the hallucinations of a skitzophreniac. To her credit, she had warned me many times that I was behaving rather foolishly, that she would take me to seek medical attention. But I hadn't listened. At the time I had not yet realized that my adventures had only been a very vivid dream. Shock therapy and intensive anti-psychotics had made me understand the difference between dreams and reality quickly enough. But perhaps not quite quickly _enough_. Not fast enough to prevent my mind from collapsing entirely.

After it was decided that I should remain in the hospital until the doctor deemed me sane enough to be released, I lost track of time. I had counted all the flaws on the sterile while walls, given them all names, and had even managed to get used to sleeping huddled on the floor before I decided that hope was a notion I had to give up as soon as I possibly could. They came every day, several times a day, to give me drugs and therapy. Those leather belts and vile tasting mouthpiece no longer bothered me. It was the shocks that I couldn't really get used to. It seemed that every time those metallic leads attached to my temples released their deadly electricity that my hallucinations would get worse. Sometimes, when those images in my mind would unhinge my sense of reality completely, they would force a burning drink down my throat. Every time it snaked down my esophagus, I knew that my body was being irreparably damaged. But, at last, one day a nurse had carelessly left one of her pens behind on the floor. It was white, just like everything else in the place; perhaps that was why it was so easy to slip it into the folds of my smock. As I lay down that night, pretending to be deep asleep, I carved my sorrow into my wrists. I had almost achieved the release that I so longed for before the blood staining the floor was brought to the attention of the nurses. My cuts were sealed, I was placed into a straight jacket, and the doctor ordered that I be put on the list for "suicide watch". After being dosed with morphine and other, unidentifyable, drugs I finally understood what I had to do.

I cooperated to the best of my ability. No matter how frightening my hallucinations were during therapy, I did not scream. No matter how painful my existence was in my bare room with padded walls, I did not complain. In fact, after nearly six months of "good behavior" - as the doctors put it - I was given a reprieve. I passed the tests the physicians threw at me with flying colors. My mother came to pick me up, tears in her eyes, relief in her smile. I almost pitied her - almost. The drive home had been as uneventful as the elven months that followed my release. I was not allowed to attend school or wander outside without an escort. A live-in nurse was assigned to keep a sharp eye on me. Not sharp enough as it turned out. I learned over that time that I was quite the cunning actress. Pretending to be sane was not as difficult for me as I had imagined. The horrid woman began to trust me to bathe alone - to even shave alone. As soon as I was certain that she could give me at least one hour to myself, I carried out the wicked plan I had been brewing up since my last attempt to end my life. Cutting myself the second time was much easier than the first. That time, I had been unsure of myself. Not so now. Where I had once stabbed through my skin horizontally, I now cut in a deep vertical pattern. Because I needed to die fast, I cut hard and long. Afterwards, I was fascinated to watch the red blur in the water expand until it stained the entire tub a crimson ruby.

Now all that was left was to wait.

Dying seemed like an eternity. I wondered if I should be focussing on something - a memory or image of some sort that I wanted to see as I drew my last breath. At first, nothing really came to mind. Not my parents who I hadn't seen for nearly a year while I was locked away. Not my little brother who had been sent to boarding school when he tried to defend me. Not Yukari, who had disowned me as a friend. Even my deceased grandmother who had fought for my freedom did not come to mind. The world had hated me and beaten me down. Why should I be thinking of it as I was saying goodbye to everything? Then - out of the hidden caverns of my hated recollections - his face appeared before me. The image was as clear as daylight and as unexplained as man's sixth sense. Those rose-red eyes made me drunk with the wine they so resembled. My breath left my lungs with a deep _whoosh_. That face was no longer as boyish as I remembered. Lines of hardship and responsibility had made the boy into a man. His name escaped my lips as the barest of whispers -

"Van..."

I felt myself leaving the heavy weight of my body behind, reaching out to that image that called to me with open arms. Immediately, I felt my faltering heart beat come to a stop. Somewhere far away was the realization that I was dead and somewhere much closer was the knowledge that I didn't care. I didn't even care that I was hallucinating again. Perhaps I could drift away in blissful ignorance.

In that precious moment, a bright, warm light caught at my hands. I heard the nurse banging at the door, heard it crash open, and saw the look of pure shock that crossed her strict features. She hesitated for a moment before screaming, grabbing the emergency radio at her waist and dialing 911. For the first time in what felt like centuries, I felt my mouth stretch into a grim smile of satisfaction. My mother barged through the opened door, her hands going up to cover her mouth, a silent scream building in her chest. All the while, the light continued to envelop me until what felt like warm water closed over my head. A voice whispered to me - _you will go to hell for this_ - it sounded like my own. Heaven, hell - even if I had believed in them, I wouldn't have cared which one fate chose for me to go to. Eternal damnation sounded much more appealing than living on in a place that had no room for me.

Finally, the water surrounded me completely. I heard nothing more. I needed nothing more.

At last, I found my peace.

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**Please review guys! I've never written from the first person before. Hope you enjoyed that little teaser! **


	2. To A Place Called Awareness

**Sorry about the confusion in the last chapter. I didn't mean to post them both on one page. Something went haywire. In any case, here is chapter 2, edited and extended to the original length I intended. To answer a few questions, this is continued after the end of the movie. :)**

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Chapter 2 - To A Place Called Awareness

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If there was one thing I did not expect, it was for the end to start a beginning. Suddenly, I remembered the tarot card "_Death_". How ironic that I died only in order to start living. I fell from the sky with that thought in my mind. I knew that I should have been afraid - I had no parachute or wing suit to assure a safe landing. I felt very much apathetic even at the thought of my body being torn to pieces on the sharp razor-like peaks of a mountain. I did not recognize the mountain range below me; I did not remember ever seeing the snowy peaks of hills and trees. Because I did not recognize those things and because I did not understand what I was suddenly doing in the sky, I assumed that the place I was in was Gaia. Was I in therapy again? Had they managed to revive me and take me back to that dreadful prison? I didn't want to know. I didn't want to think that there was a chance that all of this was just another dream.

As I was falling, I felt giddy and lightheaded. For a while, I assumed it was the rapid change in elevation. Soon, I was proven wrong. Something wet slapped against my cheek; as it spread from the force of the wind to touch my lips, I realized that I was tasting blood. I was suddenly more than a little alarmed, I fought against the pressure of the air to bring my hand into my line of vision. The cut was glaring red against my pale skin, droplets of blood pouring out at an alarming speed. I recognized the injuries; the time that I had cut them into my skin was an eternity ago; it had happened in a past life. Now, seeing them again in such an unfitting environment was like a blast of cold water in my face. Unexpectedly, I felt just how cold the wind was - how tears were streaming from eyes as the ground loomed closer and closer with every encroaching second. My heart dropped into my stomach; if I wasn't falling, I probably would have felt my skin going clammy from fear. If I had been religious, I would have prayed to God now for salvation. Because I wasn't and because I had already decided that I wouldn't give a damn even if I _was_ damned, I had no words of pleading to offer up to the sky. Just I was thinking that falling to one's death would be a most unpleasant way to pass, something pulled at my neck.

I nearly choked at the unexpected sensation. My vision went black for a moment; I was disoriented and dizzy. When I could open my eyes again, I saw light filtering through a metalic grate. The metal rubbing against my skin was so cold, I was certain that what surrounded me was the deep, dark Atlantic Ocean - where the waters were often colder than the icebergs that graced their surface. I shuddered and shivered violently before my surroundings shifter sharply; my body was thrown so hard against the metal, that I felt the impact nearly crack my skull. At last I noticed that I was quite naked - about as much a newborn seal. At any other time, my feminine modesty would have protested against such an outrage, but my head was currently occupied with the more pressing matter of staying in one piece. The smell of steam and aged leather wafted to my nose. My mind recalled something familiar; something just like this that had happened in another life. Yet, as hard as I tried to remember, I could not. Oblivious to my confusion and discomfort, the machine continued its heaving and lurching until my stomach could hardly take it. All the while, my body was chucked around in the limited space, hitting against every possible thing until I felt like a tennis ball trapped between two skillful players. I wanted so much to just pass out. The pain was unbearable.

Then, when I seriously began to believe that nothing would be left of me but tenderized meat, the machine gave a great hiss and came to a halt. By now, I was so exhausted that I didn't bother peering through the grate to see my surroundings. Honestly, I couldn't quite bring myself to care. Well, that was until a sound similar to cracking bones scared me so much that I yelped. Before I could finish the pathetic sound, the metal dropped out from under my back. I was tossed heedlessly towards what I assumed was the ground. Instead of the bruising dirt and rocks that I expected, I landed into the arms of a man. Wine-like ruby eyes met my own; trouseled black hair; a stern brow. I recognized my savior immediately. Apparently, he did as well. For a few moments, we just looked at each other without a word. I couldn't believe my eyes. That I should see him again was a fantasy I had not dared to indulge in since I'd been thrown from this world. That's when I finally remembered how I'd come to this land in the first place; how Escaflowne's cockpit had dropped me just like this into the arms of a much younger boy. The situation was quite similar now, only the boy I remembered was no longer so. The man that held my body with unrelenting strength had a slight shadow of a beard on his jaw. He wore a loose, white shirt, his shoulders graced by a flowing maroon cape. Around those same shoulders, deadly pauldrons of steel were crowned with thick fur. It made him look so much more frightening than I remembered. Judging by the scrutinizing way in which he was studying my own face, I knew that he could see the signs of time that had passed me by as well.

I wanted to whisper his name, much like I had in the moment before my death. But my lips were sealed shut. My teeth were clenched together, pain slashing across my wrists and my ribs. My temples were throbbing. There was so much I wanted to tell him. So much that I wanted to reveal. But everything was stolen from me by the blood that was slowly leaking out of me. Behind me, I heard the telltale sound of vapor that signaled Escaflowne's disappearance. My forehead grew hot; it was the feeling I might have experienced if a cigarette had been pushed into my skin while it was burning. The man looked surprised. I wondered what he was thinking as he held me. I knew that I should be screaming; I was _naked_ for Pete's sake. Yet I couldn't even gather the strength to try and push away from him. Was that because I didn't want to? Or was it because I truly couldn't? I decided that it was a little bit of both. After being apart from for so long, after all the agony I had endured at the fault of his memory, I couldn't just let him go. I had suffered too much, had wished too much to somehow end up in this moment once again. Even if this was all a dream; even if the pain I felt was just another crazy hallucination, I was past trying to fight it. This man had made me feel as if I was wanted, as if I had a purpose. Hadn't we made a promise once? Hadn't we sworn that we would never leave each other alone again? Why had Gaia tossed me away? Why had the fates chosen for me to walk a path of torture and despair?

"Hitomi..." When he whispered my name like that - like a man to his lover - I momentarily forgot all about those months of insanity. When he brought me up against his chest and pressed his lips against mine, all of my doubts melted away. There was only this man now; only him. He was all that was left for me to live for. My time in the world known as Earth was over. At last, it was time for me to start truly living. Perhaps that was why that fates had shown me Earth again. Perhaps they wanted me to understand where I belonged. When I lost consciousness, his worried gaze followed me into the abyss.

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I awakened in pieces. A few times, I could make out shapes and even blurred sounds. With each return of my consciousness, I was less and less aware of where I was. Through it all, I could hear voices hurriedly speaking in clusters of unfamiliar words. For a while, I thought that I was waking up after therapy again. Sometimes, I even tried to fight off whatever - or _who_ever - came close to me. Not again - never again would I let those freaks touch me. The thought became a litany. My body hurt so much that I didn't doubt for a moment that I was being put through the same horrible tortures that the doctors insisted I needed. Those belts were chafing my skin, cold metal was pressing against my face. Any moment now, the electricity would shoot through my muscles, my veins, my capillaries, my _pores_! My mouth opened and despite everything that I had vowed not to do, I screamed - screams that came from my center, my soul. Screams of anguish, screams of terror, screams of helplessness that I had withheld for so long.

I was shivering again, huddled in the corner of my room. The nurse was walking through the air-sealed door. The smile on her face was forced, fake, a blasphemy to the notion of true sympathy. She seemed to take pleasure in the way I shrank from her, in the way I strained against the bonds of my jacket. _You haven't been eating_, she was saying. _Of course I haven't!_ - I wanted to shout. Who in their right mind could have an appetite living the way I was? Then a hysterical laugh welled up in my throat. That's right - who in their _right mind_? My high pitched laughter caused the nurse to frown. She couldn't understand what it was that I found so funny. Ha! Naturally! Because she was still sane! Then she was lifting her radio, calling in the other, faceless, tormentors that would hold me down while the nurse gave me more "medication". I screamed and screamed, burning my throat until I was hoarse. Even then I continued screaming, the pain in my body intensifying until everything crashed down on me like a tsunami and I started crying. Sob after desperate sob shook my frame. _She needs more sedatives, doctor_... that hated voice whispered. I retreated from myself, deep into the darkness. Thoughts were calling to me - _forget, just forget. _Yes, I wanted to forget.

Again, I drifted upwards from bone-deep weariness. What had I been so upset about? There were shapes in white, blending together. Their image caused fear yet that feeling was blurred, muted somehow. My eyes protested heavily as the veil of my eyelids exposed them to a bright glare of light. Sunlight - the word drifted to me unexpectedly. For some reason that I couldn't quite justify, I felt that I hadn't seen it in ages. I tried moving my muscles and was rewarded with the knowledge that my entire form weighed as much as lead. I moved my shoulders experimentally and panicked when I felt them firmly tied down with something. No! Adrenaline kicked into my head and I began to struggle earnestly against my bonds. I could tangibly feel my face draining of color; the blood was rushing to my head. I was tied down! Why? My limbs shook in terror, my breathing excelerating as I began to recall my nightmare. Those white shapes were in front of me again. Run! Run away!

I my intelligence was suddenly no more complicated than a rabbit's in a chase. With the help of monstrous adrenaline I managed to tear one side of my bindings and sit up. I didn't feel any of the pain from my injuries. Hell, I couldn't even comprihend that I might have been injured in the first place. The only thing that I was now was fear. My muscles were moving without my command, ripping, tearing my nails against the other ropes in a futile attempt to rend them into shreds. Once my chest was free, I pulled my legs out of their bindings, heedless that I was tearing my skin. The door! The door was _there_! I sprinted forward, my legs recalling those days when I used to run. Slipping on something wet but only stumbling briefly I dashed into a wide hallway. The cold marble burned - cold and icy - into my bare feet. Heels slapping against the cream and ruby floor, I ran as far and as far as I could. When I saw a door, I ran through it. Did I even know where I was going? Certainly, I didn't care. The only thing my broken mind could clearly put together was a mantra - _not again not again not again not again! _

"Hitomi! Stop!"

I don't know how long I would have been able to keep running if that command hadn't reached my ears. My breathing was so harsh that it sounded high pitched even to me. I ran into something cold and solid; a wall, I realized. His voice seemed to echo everywhere. Looking around wildly, I tried to get my eyes to catch up to what my sixth sense was already telling me but failed until he finally stepped into view. He made up everything that my hallucinations had embodied. Beautiful, powerful, engrossing, terrifying.

"Hitomi…it's alright…calm down…"

Calm down? Calm down? Calm _down_? How the hell did this man expect me to do that? He was going to capture me! He was going to tie me down again! No!

"Stay away!" Shocking how my voice echoed against the high ceilings. "You won't stick me with that _thing_ again! I won't let you!" As he came closer and closer I could feel his aura reaching out to me. How could that be? Was I imagining again? Hadn't I told myself I wouldn't indulge in those fantasies anymore? But…when? When had I promised myself that? Why was I so terrified? The ground tilted precariously under me – an unruly stallion that struggled desperately to throw off its would-be rider. My muscles gave a powerful shudder. The adrenaline was slowly ebbing away.

"Hitomi…no one will harm you, I swear it…just please…"

That voice was so achingly familiar. Why couldn't I recall that beautiful face? Why was I only seeing a God? A God that was wreaking havoc and killing so many people. The pain slammed into me so unexpectedly that I wavered on my feet. I looked at my hands and saw bandages everywhere. Two, thin, vertical lines were blooming on my wrists. Fascinated, I watched that red become more and more fierce with every second. Blood – again, a random word popped into my head. Blood? Was it mine? Why was it mine? What had happened? Helpless to stop myself, I looked at the stranger in hopes of gaining some sort of insight, but before I could my body gave a single, unrelenting throb of agony. I felt my eyes rolling back into my head. The image of the beautiful man tilted sharply and I spiraled once again into the abyss.


	3. From a Place Called Bliss

**Voyager **

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**Chapter 3 – From a Place Called Bliss**

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_I opened my eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. _

_A great field opened up before me – green, lush, and full of life. It must have been spring. Flowers were in bloom – pink, white, lavender. A heard of deer was grazing somewhere in the distance. The breeze was gentle on my skin; it lifted my hair, toyed with it. Odd, but I couldn't remember what my hair looked like; I couldn't recall what color my eyes were, or how my hands felt. As I looked upon the vastness of the field, I was certain that I wasn't myself – that I had somehow become a part of this magical place – perhaps the last untouched piece of paradise within this world. _

_A hawk flew overhead – calling out shrilly. Perhaps it had spotted its prey with sharp eyes. Or perhaps it was simply crying out in the ecstasy of flight. I shivered, remembering a time when I had also flown. Only not on my own, but with another. His arms had surrounded me; his warmth had cocooned me. When I was with him, there wasn't anything that could cause me harm. I missed those days; I longed for them to come again. Yet my instinct contradicted my desires. It warned me against wishing – against hoping; against longing. _

_The breeze passed through me again and I felt myself moving with its rhythm. I was soaring with the hawk, my eyes taking in the endless landscape. My arms were wings – pumping up and down, catching drafts of air, spreading my feathers wide. I wanted to encompass the world; I wanted to embrace it, feel it, be one with it. I lost track of the border between land and sky. I couldn't remember ever being human. With a great whoosh I entered the heart of the stag in the field – I felt its thundering beating. I listened with acute hearing to all the sounds around me – the butterflies in the air, the gurgling of the stream, the whispering of the grass as it moved. I __**became**__ sound. Seconds became minutes, and minutes became hours. I passed through all the animals; I felt their urgency, their will to survive. It was peaceful here – I wanted to stay. I would have, had something not been nagging at me. Harsh sounds drifted to me with the wind – _

_**Come back**__, a voice whispered. __**Come back**__…_

_Why? Why should I return somewhere else when being __**here**__ felt so right? The hawk turned our head north; the stag thundered forward with our hooves; the grass sighed with our breath. We did not want to part. But something was wrong – very wrong. My mind was hazy. How had I gotten here? Was I already born into this place? Had I always felt such harmony within my soul? _

_**She's dying**__...the wind whispered. Was it the wind? Did the wind have such a voice? The stag stopped in mid-stride. The hawk cried out and stopped beating its wings. The grass stood still. Time stopped for me. Then I remembered the word "__**I**__". There was a __**me**__, and __**I**__ was here. _

_Recollection hit me with such force that I lost my breath. __**Hitomi**__ – that had been my name, once. And the wind – his name was…what was it? Yearning pooled within my gut. I wanted to remember his name. Something jerked me backwards. The stag kicked up his hooves in distress; the hawk let out a heart-breaking cry. _

_**Don't go**__ – they pleaded. _

_**Come back**__ – the wind demanded. _

_I couldn't hear the stag's heartbeat any more. The field was shrinking; the sun was dimming. I saw the silhouette of the stag, alone, standing at a cresting hill. I reached out with my hands, my fingertips tingling in anticipation of rejoining with that quickly fading paradise, but felt nothing. My hands returned, empty, to my sides. I was helpless. _

_I tried to pull free of the arms that pulled me from my paradise. I fought relentlessly. But not even my full strength was enough. Whoever it was that was whispering to my soul wanted me to return, and it seemed that there was nothing I could do about it. I stopped struggling; my body went limp. The field was so far away now that I could hardly see it. I suppose I wanted to cry, but I did not. Now that I was no longer a part of the living beings in the grass, I felt nothing. _

_**Come back to me**__...he whispered, and there was nothing I could do to fight._

_Something loomed before me – a shadow? I watched as it landed in the field. With hands are large as mountains, it lifted large chunks of ground and set the trees ablaze. At last, a shred of emotion knifed through me. Horror. The heard of deer was scattered – I saw the stag go down beneath an avalanche of earth. His death was like my own. I felt his dying breath; I felt as though the air was torn from my lungs. The trees, the animals, the grass – everything perished. Before I lost my vision completely, I saw a pair of glowing, red, eyes burning through me from the shadow's face…_

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In the real world, I gasped for breath. My body shot upright so fast that I felt disoriented for a moment. After I could see, I tried to take in my surroundings. My dream had been so vivid, so horrifying. Cold sweat covered my back; I shivered when a draft snaked up my spine. Sunlight was streaming through a large window in front of me, filtered only by white, gossamer curtains around my bed. The mattress beneath me felt soft – I was sure that it was filled with down. For all the comfort that I should have felt, I panicked. I realized that I wasn't anywhere familiar. Something was stinging on my wrists. Lifting my hands up to my face, I took in the bandages that covered my skin with some alarm. That is, until I finally remembered what had happened. Still, nothing made much sense. I was supposed to be dead, wasn't I? I remembered my final moments in the bath tub, how I had been bleeding my life out into the water. So what was I doing here? And where _was_ here?

Not expecting my questions to answer themselves, I began the arduous journey towards standing. It was harder than I thought. My wrists were in agony and my fingers refused to cooperate. Wherever I moved, the bed shifted with me – the mattress became my worst enemy. It was too soft, too pliable, and much too comfortable. I couldn't remember having slept on anything like it. When, at last, I managed to throw my feet over the edge of the bed, I was out of breath and shivering. I felt as though I had just run a marathon, not battled against a mattress. My feet hit the icy floor and I winced, curling my toes in to try and lessen the surface area in contact with the marble.

I padded over to the window, my knees the consistency of jelly, and looked outside. It seemed that the building I was in stood in a courtyard of stone. I was pretty high up from the ground – maybe two or three stories. _Well_, I thought ruefully, _I guess that rules out one escape plan_. There was snow outside, covering the bare branches of the trees. No wonder it was so cold in here.

The courtyard resembled a large driveway – it reminded me of those driveways I'd seen in picture books of castles and large estates. A carriage – no several carriages – could have fit there. I could easily imagine horses parked there before a ball, women climbing out of extravagant coaches dressed in glittering gowns, and handsome gentlemen eagerly greeting each other with bows and smiles. Surely a world like that only existed in fairy tales; the current age had no need for such frivolity.

Moving on, I looked at the rugs adorning the walls. They were beautiful. I recalled seeing pictures of such rugs in a few pamphlets advertising a study abroad trip to Turkey and the Middle East. I wondered if the owner of this place was of that nationality. The designs upon the rugs were foreign to me; they were made up of complex knots and loops, probably significant to someone who knew anything about history. I brushed my hand across the surface of the magnificent display of craftsmanship, marveling at the lack of dust one would normally encounter on such things. Again, I shivered, and this time I finally paid attention to what I was wearing.

Someone had dressed me in a long, blue sleeping gown. I couldn't make out the material, but it was warm. Wool would have been scratchy and cotton would have been stiff – this material seemed to be a hybrid of both. It possessed all of their good qualities without any of the negative characteristics often associated with their make-up. I would have hidden my hands under my arms, but moving them caused me too much pain. My feet were cold – really cold. I dashed to the nearest rug on the floor and sighed in relief when warmth suffused my aching heels. I recognized that I should have been more alert and wary of my situation, but I was much too tired to care. My little walk around the room had exhausted me. In fact, the mattress was looking more and more inviting by the second. Just as I was thinking of how good it would feel to lie back down and close my eyes again, a sound at the double doors made me whirl around. The wood gave a loud creak. There was a muttered curse.

"Sire, she needs rest. Any stress at this point could prove to be fatal."

"We must see her ourselves…"

"Your Eminence, _please_, as a doctor I cannot condone this…"

A figure walked into the room. A man. Immediately, his presence took my breath away. He was tall, so much taller than most of the men that I was used to. There was an aura of arrogance around him – a vibe that would have intimidated a tyrant. He was dressed in full battle armor the color of ivory. His shoulders were crowned with spaulders in the shape of dragon heads. On his chest, a crimson symbol stood out boldly. I remembered that symbol vaguely – an upside down triangle that resembled a dragon. It had stood for something, once; something that this man and I had fought for.

Raven hair fell across one side of his face – a face painted for battle. There were three, red stripes slashing across both of his cheeks; a triangle was painted on his forehead. A dark stubble graced his strong chin. His skin was tan – a bronze gifted by the kiss of the sun. Slowly, my eyes slid down to his waist where a deadly blade was tied with a thick, leather belt. I swallowed thickly; there was blood on that blade. It stood out darkly from the ivory sheathe. I watched a drop of it slide down the smooth metal. The scene before me was a savage contradiction to the peaceful scenery I had just watched through my window. I suddenly doubted my sanity again.

But…then…

I looked up into his eyes and lost myself. Years of hardship were written there, in every crease around those orbs. There was such profound depth to them that I thought I might drown before I reached the bottom. At last, the final piece of the puzzle was within my grasp. I remembered everything – how I'd fallen into his arms, how he'd kissed me, and my panicked flight down the hallways of this very place. What must he think of me? Surely, he regretted ever finding me. Shame set my cheeks on fire.

"Hitomi…" He said my name with such feeling, such _strength_, that I forgot what it was to breathe. How many times had I imagined this moment? How many ways had I imagined him calling out my name? None of the thousand fantasies I'd harbored had come even close. "Kolm," he gestured to the old man at his side. "Leave us."

"But Your Majesty…" the wrinkled face protested. Next to the beauty of the younger man, the withered features were ugly and grotesque.

"I said leave us," the raven-haired man said in a firmer voice. With a pitying glance in my direction, the servant obeyed. How could he not? When his master used that Godlike voice, there was no way anyone could refuse.

I inhaled sharply when the man took a step towards me. Instinctively, I backed up a step. He looked pained, then, and I realized that he was about to tell me that I wasn't welcome here. A lunatic wasn't welcome anywhere, no matter how hospitable the host. I remembered him being a kind boy, the sort that would never leave a stranded man to fend for himself. He couldn't have changed much in these long years. He had helped me only because he felt it would be dishonorable to do otherwise. Perhaps he had even done it as a token of our past friendship. I closed my eyes – squeezed them shut – in anticipation of his rejection. Whatever inner peace I had attained in the past few minutes was shattered.

Without warning, my knees gave out and I tumbled to the ground. Tears were stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. Why had he saved me? What was the point if I wasn't needed anywhere? My useless hands came up to cover my ears – a pathetic attempt at blocking out the harsh words I was sure would come too soon. My breathing was becoming more erratic by the second. I knew I was on the verge of having a panic attack, but I was helpless to stop it.

"P-Please…" I begged. "Please don't…" _Don't throw me out. _"I swear I'll do anything." I could work as a servant. I could clean and wash clothes. I could do many things, if it meant holding on to some sort of place in his world. Hadn't I decided that he was the only thing that I had left to live for? Would he be stripped from me as my freedom had been back in my world? I didn't want to consider it. I didn't want to even theorize about it. I wanted to go somewhere far away from here, back to that field, where I wasn't myself but a part of everything.

"Hitomi…" I was snapped out of my panic momentarily when he wrapped his arms around my huddled form. He was so much bigger than I remembered. His shape blotted out the sun; his scent overpowered my terror. For a moment, I was too scared to move. I was afraid that this moment could shatter at any second. I smelled war on him. There was the musky smell of sweat, the heady smell of horses, and the distinct smell of blood and adrenaline. "Forgive us…" he said slowly. Abruptly, he released me and I saw his eyes again. That pain was still there. Obviously, he felt a great regret at having to cast me away. Frantic, I dug my nails into the crevices between the plates of his armor, my nails scraping against leather and chain mail.

"I'll do anything…just don't…p-please…" My voice was barely above a whisper but my plea echoed between us as a voice across a canyon. I wondered if that's how deep the space between us was. Were we canyons apart now? Was understanding something we could never again experience? Those mystical eyes of his were untapped pools of sorrow – even now they made me want to shelter him from any harm. Just as I had done all those years ago, I wanted to tell him that I would always be here, that I would never leave. But that would be useless – since it was he that wanted me to go. He seemed to be at a loss for words. Was he thinking how to best phrase his denial of me?

But then he did something unexpected. He took my wrist gently in one hand and brought his lips to the ugly, red, bloom that soiled the bandage there. To see his beautiful lips touching something so terrible and dirty made my heart ache. I realized that to be next to him would mean sullying his purity. In that moment, he truly was an angel to me. An angel kneeling before a mortal was blasphemy; I wanted nothing to do with it. Again, I shut my eyes. I turned my face away in shame. At some point, my breathing had returned to normal. He forced my face back to look at him; how could I explain that doing so was painful beyond reason?

"Do not turn away from us," he commanded huskily. His fingers were hot against my skin. My lips trembled, my limbs felt weak. "Do not fear us. We will allow nothing to hurt you ever again. This, we _swear_." With that solemn vow in place, he moved forward and pressed his mouth to mine. It was no chaste kiss; it was much more than a way to seal his oath; it was incredible and unforgettable. I had been lost so long without water in the desert, that when I finally found the sustenance that was his lips, I drank my fill and more. Though I knew that I didn't deserve a single ounce of it, I let myself drink deeply of his strength; I let myself imagine, for a moment, that he felt something for me – that we both shared a bond that transcended space and time. As all things do, our blissful moment ended. He pulled away first, and I saw with some surprise that he was just as breathless as I was.

"Van," I whispered reverently. I suddenly wasn't certain of my earlier assumptions. Would a man who kissed a woman like that really want to send her away? I wondered what sort of expression was on my face. At that moment, my skin was numb everywhere except the places where his hands gripped my shoulders. I felt his breath fanning my cheeks – it was warm, almost hot. How cruel, that I should feel this close to him yet be so far away. When I could find my voice again, I spoke –

"Please don't send me away," I begged. Just gripping his clothing was no longer enough. I threw my arms around him and crashed into him, wanting nothing more than to be absorbed. I didn't care that his armor was cold and hard against my skin. I didn't feel the jarring blow to the side of my face when I pressed myself against him. All I knew was that I wasn't letting go. There was utter silence for a moment before his arms enveloped me. His gloved fingers dug into my hair. He took a deep breath and I felt his large body shudder. Was he disgusted with me? I probably looked pathetic in his eyes.

"How could you think such things?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "When we have thought of nothing but this day since the moment that you flew away from us?"

* * *

**A/N: I realize I haven't updated in a very long time. I was actually writing something different when a note of inspiration hit. I wrote several chapters in one sitting. Although I assume that no one will read this story any more, I still hope to see some responses in the future. **

**Some clarification: As far as I've seen, royalty speak in the third person when addressing their subjects. Van will do the same for the most part. Occasionally, he will slip into first person, but only with Hitomi. **

**Why is Van wearing battle armor? Why does Hitomi sense war? What was that shadow in her dream? All these questions and more will definitely be answered in the next installment. As always, feedback is greatly treasured, so please leave a blurb or two…**

**-FantomBlack **


	4. To a Place Called Complications

**A/N: To answer the most frequently asked question: this story is a continuation of both the movie and the series. There will be elements from both. I enjoyed both versions of this anime, but I believed that there were things missing in each version. Thus, I will attempt to fill in the gaps either with information of my own creation, or with facts from either the movie or the television series. I hope that the way I've done this will become clearer as the chapters progress. **

**In response to your reviews: thank you so much for your words of encouragement. It is a delight to find review alerts in one's mailbox the morning after I've stayed up late writing. As any author would, I naturally wish to see more and more reviews, but I do understand that everyone is busy and doesn't always have time to go through the trouble of writing feedback. So, I will continue to write. Even though I can't be sure that there are that many people reading, I want to keep going for those of you who have already responded. **

**Again, you have my most sincere thanks. You've given me just the spur I needed!**

**I hope to hear from more of you soon. **

* * *

**Voyager**

**Chapter 4 – To a Place Called Complications**

* * *

"_How could you think such things?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "When we have thought of nothing but this day since the moment that you flew away from us?" _

* * *

I was confused. Was he implying that he'd waited for my return? Surely, that was not the case. For such a man as he to wait for someone as insignificant as myself…it was folly to believe it. But there it was – that naïve fluttering of hope. It was tickling the inside of my chest; I wanted to stop myself from feeling relieved, but failed. I was indeed a fool to trust so easily again – but there was no stopping it. Was it so wrong to hope? Was it so fatal to wish for happiness? I was far away from narrow-minded doctors and generalized prescriptions. I was far away from judgmental parents and ignorant friends. I was in _Gaia_. I was with _Van_.

"I don't care if this is a dream…I don't care..." _If I am dead, it doesn't matter. I want to stay like this forever._ My ear tingled when his lips brushed against it gently – ever so slightly. I caught his breaths, listening to them, marveling at how dear they were to me.

"This is no dream," he whispered. "At last, after this nightmare that we have lived, we have awakened to find you in our arms." His words broke me, broke through my resolve to avoid shaming myself any further. I cried again. I cried so hard I thought that I would pour out every drop of water in my body. Van didn't move; I could feel him running his fingers through my hair, murmuring something in my ear. "How can I ease your torment? Just tell me. Tell me and I will do anything. Please, just say something…" I was past comprehending words and gestures. I just wanted the pain in my core to end. I wanted to disappear forever into the man before me – to become his air, his blood, his _soul_.

I suppose I must have fainted. This time, I slept without dreams. There was no blissful field to comfort me just as there were no shadows to haunt my steps. Later, I would learn that I slept for nearly three days. But at that time, I felt that I could have drifted in the darkness for centuries. There was no sound or sorrow – no hurt or hurting. There was only silence. A silence that helped me regain some strength and peace of mind.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, the sun was high in the sky. I stretched experimentally and found, to my dismay, that I was still tired. I was restless, though. I wanted to get out of bed and move around. Even as a child, sickness didn't leave me bedridden for long. It was habit I wasn't planning to break. This time, I found a pair of slippers at the side of my bed. Grateful for their protection, I pulled them on and padded to the window.

Snow was still falling, only this time I knew that it was falling on the new Fanelia. I appreciated it more now that I knew how rare it was. In all the months I'd spent here, I had never seen snow. It had always been hot – almost unbearably so; I hadn't even considered that it was possible to face such cold here. Out of curiosity, I pressed my hand to the glass, allowing winter's bite to tease my fingertips. I wondered where Van was – why he had been wearing armor when he'd first walked in the room. Looking out into the quiet, somber, winter landscape, I couldn't imagine that there was a war raging behind the waterfall of snow. From what I remembered, war had been all encompassing. There had not been any time to enjoy the weather or the scenery. Besides, I had left Gaia in a state of peace. What could have changed so drastically in eight years? From what I remembered of history, war did not begin overnight. Usually, such things took time – much longer than several years – to develop.

That's when I decided that today, I had to leave this room. I had to know how I had ended up in Gaia once again. Though I was beyond grateful and although I felt that I did not deserve a second chance, I needed to understand if my coming hadn't been a catalyst to something dreadful. Memories of the shadow that I'd seen in the field nagged at me relentlessly. I wanted to believe that it had been a nightmare, but I could not ignore the possibility that my sixth sense was warning me of danger. I walked to the door and peeked out into the hallway. When I saw that there was no one to hinder my progress, I began my exploration.

My footsteps bounced off the walls and reverberated through the many statues lining its wide berth. There were sculptures of men and women that I did not recognize. The writing on their nameplates was alien to me. Though I understood the Gaian language, I had never been able to decipher the writing. I avoided touching anything, though I wanted to explore the place with my tactile senses. My clumsiness was a factor I had to take into consideration – no matter my intentions, I would surely wind up breaking something. I continued down the hallway at a slow pace; walking around was still tiring.

Carefully, I looked into the faces of each person on each painting. There were kings there – monarchs and their wives. Each had the same aura of superiority I had sensed in Van earlier. At last, I came to the final painting in the corridor. My heartbeat faltered; it was Van. Only much older, much more wearied. There were creases on this man's forehead; he wasn't smiling like the others. His shoulders were held straight, but I could almost tangibly feel the burden placed upon them. This man had to be Van's father. I tiptoed closer to the picture frame, trying to imagine Van as a man like this. Somehow, I feared doing so. I didn't want the boy that I knew facing the hardships that this man did. I didn't want to see those creases on his forehead.

War changed people. I knew that all too well. I was a far cry from the sheltered girl I'd been before coming to this ravaged land. I'd seen things that most people back home couldn't even dream of. I'd faced situations and decisions that were much too heavy for a girl my age to bear. Yet Van had faced these things much earlier. He had been just a child when his own brother had destroyed his country – all for the prophecy of an oracle. I was even more ashamed now. To think that I had chosen to die rather than face my problems head on was embarrassing. Suddenly, I feared that Van would find out (perhaps he already knew) the circumstances of my injuries. What would he think of me then? Would he still want me by his side? Would he still look upon me with the same tender gaze?

_No_, my mind answered. He wouldn't.

I shivered, suddenly feeling chilled. A steam of sunlight caught my attention. There was a small doorway at the end of the hall. I walked there sluggishly and opened it. A breath of wonder escaped my lips. It was a garden – so magnificent and beautiful I had to wonder how it flourished in such atrocious weather. I moved outside, not feeling the cold wind nipping at my skin. In moments, I was caught up in the beauty of the scenery. There were flowers everywhere. Their petals were the color of vanilla. Somehow, they reminded me of lilies – I had always loved lilies the most. There was a small bench perched beneath an archway of white roses. I was helpless to resist its call. For a long time after that, I sat still, taking in the breathtaking beauty of life in this small space. A fountain murmured in the center of everything – a statue of a girl sitting just as I was, a thoughtful look on her face as she looked upwards. What was she thinking about? I followed her gaze to the endless grey sky smothered with large, foggy, clouds. Did she yearn to fly away? At this moment, that was farthest from my mind. If I could have, I would have stayed longer, but the chill was getting to me. I was about to stand when something warm and soft was draped over my shoulders. Warm fingers squeezed my shoulders.

"Does it please you?" I whirled around. Van was looking at the girl in the fountain, his gaze gentle and serene. Naturally, it would be thus. This place seemed other-worldly, as if it was spared the harshness of reality by some divine intervention.

"Very much," I answered. He had covered me with a fur shawl. Now that I wasn't so exposed to the elements, I felt much better. Slowly, he sat next to me on the bench, pulling me back so I was leaning on him.

"You are still as reckless as ever." I waited for him to explain what he meant. "Sitting outside in the middle of winter wearing nothing but a sleeping gown." Suddenly, I was embarrassed. I allowed myself to relax against him, hoping that he couldn't see the blush staining my cheeks; he rested his chin on the crown of my head.

"You were worried?" I asked.

"Naturally," was his calm reply. After that, we sat in silence for a time. There was no need for words now. I felt, then, that he was caught up in the same trance as I was. I wished that we could have been spared from reality for a bit longer. Warmth was seeping back into my limbs and I felt sleepy. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, but said nothing. My questions would have robbed us of our peace; the last thing that I wished for was to see the lines of worry appearing on his face again. Still, I had to be practical. My dream had been a warning; I was sure of it. And normally, warnings were not given twice.

"Van, what happened after I left? Why were you dressed for battle?"

He sighed – a long and tired sound. I regretted asking him anything. He seemed just as hesitant as I was to talk about anything unpleasant.

"We had hoped to shelter you from it, but it appears that you are just as perceptive as you were then." I smiled at that. At least neither of us had changed that much. Well, except for the way he spoke. It would take some time for me to get used to the formal way he addressed himself.

"After the Black Dragon Clan collapsed, there was peace for a while. Several countries banded together to form a treaty that would ensure a balance of power between our nations. Millerna took her place as queen of Asturia; Allen Schezar reformed the Order of the Knights Caelli. With their help, Freid was rebuilt and later, we were able to restore Fanelia to its former state. Although, there are still many repairs to be made."

I thought about my time with the Abaharaki. Although they all fought for the same cause, Van had always been separate from them. He was proud and stubborn. I wondered if he'd asked for help to rebuild his homeland, or if he'd done it on his own.

"The treaty of peace lasted for nearly four years. After that, news began to spread of a mercenary who had staged a coup in Medina, one of Asturia's neighboring countries. He assassinated the monarch and his kin and had his generals take the senate's families hostage. By the time the larger countries realized what was happening, Medina's army was marching through major cities, burning and destroying everything in its path." Van's voice had become tense and strained. I didn't blame him. To work so hard for peace only to feel it slip through your grasp had to be frustrating.

"Because Medina shared a treaty of protection with Asturia, Millerna sent in her forces to stop the destruction." He paused. "Every man she sent was lost. They were sent in a series of armored levi-ships. We chased them all the way to the Craters where the wandering earth collects, but we lost them in the mists. The men were sent in after them, but they never returned." He raked a hand through his unruly hair. Obviously, it wasn't easy for him to recall everything.

"After losing such a large portion of her fleet, Millerna realized that Asturia was vulnerable. She started calling in old debts from countries farther north. Rintia wasn't yet hit by the rebels and offered to send in some troops to help. But it's not enough."

I put a comforting hand on his forearm, trying to lend him whatever strength I could. To think that I had been wallowing in self-pity while all these people had been fighting for their lives disgusted me. Oblivious to the direction my thoughts were taking, Van kept going –

"Soon after, there was an attempt on Millerna's life. Fortunately, Allen was able to stop the assassin. After interrogating him, we were finally able to get the name of the mercenary who had started all this: Dilandau Albatou." His grip on my arm suddenly became almost painful. I bit my lip. That man's name was not one said lightly. During my first war in Gaia, he had shown himself to be a ruthless madman with a bloodlust that could not be sated. His Alseides had lain waste to Torushina and had nearly destroyed Escaflowne. "We had all believed that he'd died after his armor was crushed; as it turned out, we were wrong. We're still not sure where he was able to gather such a large following. It seems incredible that he could have managed to do so on his own."

A strong gust of wind interrupted him, and he immediately pulled my shawl closed. I wasn't cold, not really, not while I was pressed against him. Even though the topic of our conversation had turned grim, I was still the happiest that I had ever been. When he was certain that I was well protected from the breeze, he went on.

"In the past four and some odd years, we've been fighting his armies in an attempt to stop Dilandau's rampage through the continent. However, he's already taken three other, smaller, countries – Ruma, Nilan, and Bartalos." This time, I couldn't keep silent. I remembered his armor, the blood on his blade. Escaping his embrace, I turned to face him and placed my hands on his chest.

"But what about Fanelia?"

A helpless look of frustration crossed his features. "Fanelia is in the direct line of his warpath. We've been attacking all of his weak points, but so far, we haven't managed to gain a significant advantage. It's like he knows the locations and times of our attacks. We've lost so many. The men's courage is hanging by a thread."

"What about Asturia?" I demanded to know. "Aren't they doing something about this too?"

"Asturia is already fighting on one front. Helping us would mean splitting up their already small reserves. And now that you've returned…" He looked at me again, looked at me very seriously. I realized that there was something he was keeping from me, something very important. I did my best to give him a stern glare, reprimanding him with my eyes for trying to leave anything out of the explanation. He sighed and gave in. "There are many people who believe that the Wing Goddess will return again and many of the countries have…" he hesitated, "…have _implied_ that once she reappeared, she would belong to them."

"Belong to them?" I repeated uncomprehendingly.

"If anyone knew you were here…" He brushed a strand of loose hair away from my face.

I suddenly understood. If the leaders of the countries he'd named were as desperate as I thought, then nothing would stop them from trying to solve their problems by claiming me. I had not forgotten how I was thought to be a legend among the Gaian people. _I_ knew that I was no Goddess. I had just been an ordinary girl who was able to befriend the pilot of Escaflowne and turn his heart towards its true path. But therein lay the problem – others didn't know that. If they believed that having the Wing Goddess on their side would guarantee them safety, there was nothing – not even a treaty – that would stop them from attacking Fanelia. By coming here, I had placed the country in danger. It was already threatened by war and I had only made it worse with my appearance. My chest felt tight; there was a lump in my throat. How could Van be so gentle with me? How could he be so caring when I was such a danger to his homeland? In a rush, I ducked my face under his chin so that he wouldn't see the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

"Do not be afraid," he murmured. "No one will take you from me again…" He had slipped into the less formal way of speaking. It reminded me of the old days, when he and I were much closer. He was trying to reassure me, but reassurance of my safety was the last thing that I needed. I needed him to tell me that I would not cause him grief, that I would not bring his country into ruin. Of course, he believed that I feared for myself. He couldn't have known that I didn't care what happened to me. I had stopped caring long before I slashed my wrists. "I will always protect you. No matter what happens, you will never be hurt again."

Desperately, I wished that I could let him take such risks for me. But, I had decided that I would be the one to live for _him_ this time. I would do anything in my power to keep this man from harm. Even if he needed to send me away to protect his country, I would not complain. Whatever he decided, I would accept without question. My life was his, now that he had saved it. There was nothing more that I wanted than to give it all to him.

* * *

Our time in the garden was interrupted by a messenger. He was dressed in fine clothes – ivory, gold, and crimson, the colors of Fanelia. He had the haughty air of a spoiled butler in a mansion, who believed himself above other human beings simply because he served the elite. It was almost humorous, the way he held his nose up high, as if he could drown out the smell of commoners that way. His hair was long, tied back by a single, red, ribbon. On his hands, he wore pristinely white gloves. Had the situation not been so serious, I would have giggled at his cliché appearance.

At first, he didn't see me. Van's large body probably blocked my smaller one from view.

"Majesty, there is a message of utmost urgency…"

Van shifted to face him and I met the messenger's gaze. When he saw me, his face became a sneer. I wondered what I'd done to offend him. I hadn't even met him before today. Yet he seemed to know me; there was recognition on his face. As a reflex, I clutched Van's tunic a little tighter. His hand came up to cover mine.

"Speak quickly," the king said.

"Your Highness, a levi-ship with Asturian colors approaches the harbor. His Lordship Farir asks that you relay instructions on what is to be done."

"An Asturian ship? Does it fly the colors of a royal barge? Or is it a battleship?"

The messenger nodded once. "There are no flags flying to hint at either; however, Lord Farir believes that it could belong to Sir Allen Schezar."

Was this grave news? It must have been, for my king's face lost some color. How I wanted to be able to give him more support. How I wanted to hide him away from all these troubles. But it was impossible for someone like me – someone who had given up the way I had.

"Majesty, will you take the royal carriage, or should I prepare a horse?"

The king hesitated. I knew why.

"Van," I told him. "You should go. I'll be fine." He didn't turn to look at me at first.

"Prepare the carriage. If Allen Schezar or any member of the royal family is on the ship, they will need to be formally welcomed. Tell Farir to await Our arrival at the harbor. We will be there as soon as We have seen to the welfare of the Lady."

Again, the messenger sneered at me, but said nothing. He bowed his head, took several steps back and was gone. I tapped Van on the shoulder. He still wasn't looking at me.

"Van, you should go. I think I remember the way back. I can make it – " before I could finish my sentence, I was lifted from the bench into his arms. Miraculously, my slippers stayed on my feet. Still, I could feel the cold catching up to me. He knew. Of course he did. Although he had called _me_ perceptive, he was the one that was proving to be the most understanding. He didn't say anything. His bangs were covering his eyes, casting a shadow on his features. I couldn't read what he was thinking in that moment, but I could feel that something was off. Then, as quickly as it came, the shadow left his face. When he looked at me, his eyes were gentle again. I wondered when he'd learned to hide his emotions so well.

"Van," I said, my cheeks burning, "I'm heavy."

"I should have taken you back sooner. Your hands are cold as ice."

Were they? I hadn't realized. I was much too busy feeling blissful in his arms. The journey back down the hallway seemed much shorter than it had when I was the one doing the walking. I don't quite recall how it was that I ended up back in my bed, tucked under the sheets like a five-year-old. I suppose I was half-asleep by the time we made it to my room. I vaguely remembered his warm hand on my cheek.

"Sleep now," came his voice from a distance. "We will continue our conversation when you've rested."

* * *

**Author's Corner:(a.k.a - just me babbling)  
**

**I've come to realize that my chapters appear very short when I post them. This is a little surprising, seeing as each one that I write is about 6 or 7 pages in Word. I hope this doesn't put most of you off. **

**I'm trying a new approach to writing fanfiction. I used to just post whatever I wrote and end it with a cliffhanger. This time, I want to try and make my story into more of a book format, where each chapter is a separate entity, even if it means that there isn't a cliffhanger at the end of every post. **

**I always hated reading First Person stories, but somehow I wound up falling in love with this perspective. I never imagined that I would enjoy writing from this point of view so much. Thank you for your support as I learn to navigate my way through this new experience. Truly, your responses have given me a lot of energy. It's been so long since I've stayed up late working on a story...**

**Your loyal author, **

**FantomBlack  
**


	5. From a Place Called Torment

**Author's Notes: **

**Dear Readers,**

**A few things to consider: This chapter was posted very quickly after the previous one! **

**This might cause some confusion. I hope that no one will end up skipping the last chapter accidentally.  
**

**Also...  
**

**I don't believe that I posted proper warnings about this story earlier, and I apologize for that.**

**The genre of "Voyager" is Horror/Romance/Angst/Action.**

**Due to the dark and graphic nature of this fiction, younger readers may be disturbed or offended by its content. If you are sensitive to topics such as suicide, horror, graphic violence, and descriptions of a sexual nature, please be warned. This story is definitely not for you. **

**I hope that I have not offended anyone by posting this; I just want to be sure that I comply with the rules of this website and other reading communities. Thank you. **

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* * *

**Voyager **

* * *

**Chapter 5 – From a Place Called Torment**

* * *

……………………………

_A clock was ticking. _

_I was running down an empty road. _

_Ahead of me, I saw no goal – no destination, no future. _

_Yet still I ran. I ran because the clock was ticking, and with every second the one chasing me got closer. _

_**Tick, tick, tick, tick…**_

_The clock was ticking._

_I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. The air was stale – I could hardly grab enough oxygen to feed my starving lungs. Crimson was all around me. The walls, the street, the lights – everything was red. Behind me, I could feel a breathing – slow, deliberate. My attacker wasn't winded in the least. I feared that he would chase me as far as I could run. I propelled myself forward, my body remembering the days when I had been an athlete. I felt every footfall, every impact of my bare feet on the gritty concrete. There were whispers everywhere – sighs, groans, gasps. I couldn't tell where they were coming from; I didn't care. _

_**Tick, tick, tick, tick…**_

_A clock was ticking. _

_I stumbled; I fell; I rolled; I forced myself to get back up again. I had to keep moving; I had to warn everyone. My throat burned; my lungs exploded. The concrete was suddenly covered in thorns. They stabbed into my feet with every step, piercing through flesh and hitting bone. The thorns became hands. With their claws, they grabbed at my legs, at my hands, at my sides. Everywhere they touched, my skin burned. I was sweating. My clothes were soaked. Still, I kept running. The sound of my harsh breathing bounced off the red walls; they were made of human tissue and bone, pumping blood with the rhythm of the clock. _

_**Tick, tick, tick, tick…**_

_The clock did not slow. _

_But I did. I was tired, so tired. Keep going! I had to keep going! I had to warn everyone! _

_Run! Run as fast as you can! _

_The thorns scratched against my bones. I could feel the friction of the wood against the marrow. By body was like lead – a useless weight fighting ferociously against my will. Ahead of me, there was a jungle. I dashed through it; more thorns; thorns everywhere. A breathing on my neck; a sighing in my ear. He was close; he was gaining on me! I pushed forward; faster; faster; faster! The leaves of the jungle became barbed wire. My clothes were tearing, my skin was getting caught on the twisted metal. I felt it tearing, too. Layer after layer tore away from me, revealing muscle still covered in thick, red, blood. I tried to scream, but I had no voice. My shrieks came out as whispers. _

_**Tick, tick, tick, tick…**_

_At last, I saw something gleaming just ahead. By the time I got close to the feeble glowing, the skin was flayed off my back. Huge splinters of wood protruded from my legs, my feet, my stomach. I recognized the glow – it was a mirror, reflecting a light that wasn't there. I felt the clock ticking in my throat; the vibrations of it shook my innards, made me feel as though I wanted to rip them out of my gut. _

_I made it. _

_I made it to the mirror. _

_Only then I wished I hadn't. _

_In front of me, I saw myself – only it wasn't me. It couldn't be._

_I reached out my hand and the reflection did the same. _

_Myself. _

_But not._

_I was covered in sweat; only, I was sweating blood. My tears were blood. Red streamed out of every pore on my skin – out of my eyes, my nose, my ears. The clothes I wore were torn to shreds, the white a frightening contrast to the blood that soaked it. Pieces of skin were missing from my arms, from half of my face. I saw my facial muscles contract as I gasped. __**Tick, tick, tick, tick…**__the clock was inside me. It was in the cavity between my lungs. I saw the golden minute hand moving; the hour hand had was lodged inside my heart. No! Again, I tried to scream. Again, I only whispered. I fell to the concrete, crawled to the mirror. A savage anger filled me. I wanted to kill my own reflection. _

_Then I felt it – the breathing. Something sighed into my ear – a sound that was a gasp and an exhalation all at once. I saw it – in the mirror. The shadow. It hovered behind me, so close I had to wonder how it wasn't touching me. Terrified, I looked back, only to find that there was nothing there. I could only see it in the mirror. It was moving - a thick, viscous thing that was the consistency of tar. __**Tick, tick, tick, tick…**__The minute hand chafed at my esophagus. Bile was rising in my throat. The shadow reached down and I saw blistered, bony fingers wrapping around my neck. _

"_You will not interfere…" it hissed. _

_The clock was ticking. The minute hand was almost at the number three. I screamed in silent agony. My head felt as though it would explode. Pressure was building behind my eyes. I saw my reflection dying – saw the shadow smile in a faceless grin. The minute hand was moving…_

_**Tick, tick, tick, tick…**_

_At last, it reached my death. _

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I should have gotten used to waking up from hearing myself scream. I had done it for years, after all. But this time was just like the first time this had happened. My consciousness was still stranded half way between my dream and reality. In my head, I heard my voiceless wailing, while in my ears I heard my deafening shriek. My eyes flew open, my hands coming up to tear the bony fingers from around my throat. I tried to sit up – hit my head on something hard. Stars filled my immediate vision; a piercing cold stabbed into my back. Wildly, my eyes snapped from one direction to another; where was I? It was so dark I couldn't see a thing. Hadn't I fallen asleep in my room? Hadn't the bed been warm and comforting?

"What…" I breathed almost silently. "Where am I…?"

I tried to feel out my surroundings with my hands. Something solid was pressed against my chest. I was in some sort of narrow space. A coffin? Was I dead? Had I died after all? Had everything up until now been some sick hallucination? The icy surface of my rationale and logic were set ablaze. I flew into a mindless frenzy.

"Let me out!" I shouted. "I'm not dead! I'm not dead!" A musky odor drifted to my nostrils. I imagined it to be wet earth – fresh soil that the doctors at the hospital were dumping on my coffin. I imagined that something crawled along my legs – spiders, insects, worms. They were going to devour me. I would be eaten and buried alive. I would slowly run out of air until the darkness swallowed me completely. Then they would crawl up into my nose, into my ears, into my mouth. I would waste away slowly; I would turn into a mass of unrecognizable flesh. I would rot here.

"Help me! Somebody help me!" I scratched at the lid of the coffin, feeling splinters from the wood digging into the sensitive skin under them. Using my left elbow as support, I flung myself upward, banging against the wood with my shoulder. My blood was freezing; my hands were becoming stiff with hysteria. As seconds went by – or was it hours – my thrashing became more forceful, my screaming more hoarse. At last, I heard a sound – voices. Was it the doctors? Did they realize that I was still alive?

"Help! I'm not dead! I'm not dead!"

There was a muffled shuffling. Someone was yelling. A woman. I struggled harder; I used my remaining strength to push against the coffin's lid. Dizzy – I was getting dizzy. I knew that I was suffocating. I was going to die. I would fade away until I became one with the soil. No one would come for me. I was not needed. I had been thrown away…

"My God! She's under the bed!" a girl shouted. My movements became more sluggish. The time between my struggles increased.

"I see her, but there's no way that I can get her out without hurting her!" A man? Was it a man speaking?

"We have to lift it! Hurry, Kael, call for help!" I heard heavy breaths and fading footsteps. "My Lady! My Lady, please don't move! We'll get you out!"

"Mira, move aside!"

"Help me lift this side up!"

The lid of the coffin began to shift. The pressure on my chest lessened.

"Just a little more!" The woman's voice was so close this time. I turned my glassy eyes to her. "My Lady! Give me your hand!"

"We can't hold it! Hurry!"

The coffin was creaking. Something was falling on my face. Dust? I stared into the woman's desperate face and dumbly moved my hand toward her outreached arm. There was a tug; I felt a wave of pain burn through my wrist. Then air! Blessed air! I breathed in deeply then coughed. Someone was patting my back, asking me something. The sound of crashing furniture.

"Mira, is she alright?" was the man's concerned question.

"My Lady, are you hurt?" This time, I understood what she was saying. My eyes narrowed; I was assaulted by light from all sides. Clutching my throat – where I could have sworn that I felt fingers – I looked around and saw that I was in my room. Ivory curtains swayed with a gentle breeze; the sun filtered through the shutters in a dazzling patters of stripes and dots. I might as well have been hit with a bucket of cold water.

"I'm…alive…" I croaked.

The two boys and woman exchanged glances. Mesmerized by the sunlight that I'd thought I'd never see again, I stood, stumbling to the shuttered window. With shaking hands, I pushed them open. A pair of birds flew away, chirping a chaotic melody. I had been having a nightmare. No, perhaps it was a lesson taught to me by fate. A lesson in priorities; a lesson meant to show me that I had made a grave mistake. I didn't understand, though, why I was so afraid of dying now? Where was the coherence in my logic? Where did my fear of death come in? Hadn't I been the one that had nearly killed myself? Hadn't I decided that it was time for me to go?

"My Lady, do you need the doctor?"

Yes, I thought. I probably did. Though there was nothing anyone could do to fix me now. I was broken – there was something wrong with me. I looked outside and saw no colors. From my place in the window, I spotted the garden that Van and I had visited. It looked plain, now; no longer was it the heaven that I had imagined. Then again, maybe it was heaven only when I had been with _him_. I heard the woman leaving through the door. Let her leave; I didn't want to see anyone right now. Or maybe, I didn't want to _be seen_. Slowly, carefully, experimentally, I breathed in the fresh air of winter. Snowflakes fluttered into the room. I don't remember how long I just stared at the sun, marveling at the fact that I was still alive. I looked at my wrists – the reminders of my shame. Would it forever haunt me – this disgrace? Would I forever be reminded of what I had almost given up?

Finally, I tore myself away from nature's evidence of life and shuffled to the bed. That's when I saw it. The mirror. And myself. Looking back at me through the reflection was a woman that I hardly recognized. Her hair was a tangled mess. There were smudges of grey on her face. Under her huge, green eyes, there were purple smudges of exhaustion. Bruises covered her forearms and soiled, red, bandages were wrapped around her wrists. Her gown was wrinkled and torn in some places, one strap hanging off a swollen shoulder. I stepped closer and saw that there were scars from needles dotting the crease of her right elbow. I explored her face and noticed that her lips were chapped; her neck was covered in scratches.

_Is that, __**me**__?_ I wondered.

_Did he see me like this? _Was my horrified thought.

It was sobering, to finally see what I looked like. In the hospital, there were no mirrors, and at home, the nurse had forced my mother to take them down in fear that I would break them and use the shards to hurt myself. How long had it been since I'd looked into my own eyes? What had happened to me? My cheeks were sunken, my eyes were listless. For a moment, I understood why the nurse hadn't wanted mirrors in the house. I was barely restraining myself from breaking the reflection in front of me with my bare hands. Biting my lip, I rushed to the bed, tore off the covers, and tossed them over the mirror.

It's difficult to describe how I felt after that. To think that Van had seen the hideous urchin that I had become – had kissed her, even – made me want to hurtle myself out of the window. Fearing that I would do something reckless, frantic as I was, I shuffled to the corner farthest from the window and sat down, wrapping my arms around my knees. That's how he found me, rocking back and forth like a trauma victim. I heard the door opening and felt the floor shake with his approach. There was no need for him to speak. I had sensed him from the hall.

"Don't look at me…" I said miserably. "Don't come near me…"

He didn't answer. Without a single word, he settled himself next to me and pressed his shoulder against mine. What would he say? Did he know about my fit? Had my three rescuers told him about my insane screaming? How I'd shoved myself under the bed and nearly suffocated?

"The country of Salas has offered Fanelia and Asturia an alliance," he said without preamble. I stiffened. "Queen Millerna has arrived to tell Us this in person." A pause. Was he waiting for me to say something? When I didn't give any sign of responding, he went on. "Salas is a nation of warriors that has isolated itself from all of us for years. Larger countries like Asturia and Izgardia have sent countless messengers to seek a pact with the Salasians. They all returned empty-handed."

What was he talking about? Countries? Warriors?

"To accept an alliance with them is tempting. Asturia has limited resources now and Fanelia is not yet strong enough to stand alone on the front. Although Izgardia believes that they are safe from the threat of war, it won't be long before they are affected as well."

_The messenger, Hitomi_ – my thoughts reminded me. _He's talking about the messenger in the garden_.

"Queen Millerna believes it is a great honor to receive such an offer from the warriors. In all of recorded history, Salas has never reached out to anyone. Not even their style of warfare is known. All those who have tried to lay siege to that country have fallen into ruin. So, why now? They are well-hidden behind their mountains and behind the Dragon Valley that surrounds Fanelia."

Momentarily distracted, I looked up. "It's weird for them to be offering their help all of a sudden. That's what you mean, right? Why don't they just stay in their lands and defend them like they've always done?" I thought for a moment. "You think it's a trap?" That's when I realized my mistake. Van was smiling – that rare and precious smile. I felt cheated somehow; tricked – like a mouse caught in a trap. He had anticipated that my curiosity would get the best of me. I frowned. He must have understood my discomfort, for he turned away and looked straight ahead. My heartache was momentarily forgotten.

"You have always been able to see into situations better than myself. Do you believe that this offer of peace is genuine?"

My head was still whirling with the sudden change of topic. I waited for the depression to hit me again, but it did not. It was as if Van's question had blown it all away. Although it was odd, his plan to comfort me had worked.

"You're asking _me_?" I inquired in surprise.

"Shouldn't I?" he queried, looking honestly confused.

"But I'm – "…_crazy_, I thought dejectedly.

"Honestly," he cut in, "...I don't believe that I can make this decision without your input." There was nothing fake about the way he said that. He wasn't being sarcastic or pretending to be nice. I sensed that he truly wanted to know what I thought about the situation.

_He knows_. _He knows exactly what I'm thinking and feeling._ _Gods…_

A throb of affection so raw and unchecked engulfed my heart that I felt the corners of my eyes tingle in response. With a sob, I propelled myself forward into his awaiting embrace. He must have known what I would do; he hugged me back instantly and without a second thought. I didn't cry; this time, I just let his aura work itself into the holes within my soul. I let his presence heal me.

"There is nothing in this world that could turn me away from you," he said slowly.

I wanted to tell him that he had no idea what sort of person I was. I wanted to tell him that he would only dirty himself by associating with me. But I was past words. My lips were sealed.

"You believe that I don't understand your true circumstances, but I am not blind Hitomi. When you are ready, I believe that you will tell me why you tried to…" his voice faded out. He was more upset than he tried to let on. I hugged him tighter. Why couldn't I disappear? Why couldn't I just become his shadow? I wouldn't mind, as long as I could be with him. I felt him trembling. Perhaps my king was not talented in hiding his emotions after all. I felt that he had done more than enough for me to deserve an explanation. Although, I wasn't certain that I could clearly give a reason for becoming the coward that I was. Despite that, I decided that I would try –

"When I left Gaia, I…"

How? How could I put into words the feelings that I had experienced? How could I give shape to the loneliness that had nearly eaten me from inside out?

"I got sick."

It was the only phrase that I could think of. "I tried telling people about Gaia, but no one believed me. The doctors said that there was something wrong with me, mentally. My mom, she…she thought it would be best to send me away for help."

How could I describe a hospital? How could I tell him that the doctors who were supposed to help me only made things worse? I stumbled through a brief description of the mental facility, of the shock treatments, of the endless procession of drugs and medicine. My voice sounded foreign, strange. I hadn't meant to go into so much detail, but now that I had started the words were pouring out without a sign of stopping. I told him about my first suicide attempt; how I was put into restraints, and finally how I was released. When I reached the night of my death, I finally felt that there was something wrong.

"Van?" I asked timidly. He was shaking; not just trembling, but really _shaking_. Alarmed, I looked up and saw that the muscles in his jaw were throbbing. He was as stiff as a board, his hands clenching fistfuls of my gown. Was he angry? Did he wish, now, that he had never saved me? That he had left me to die? "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said anything…"

"When I found you…" he interrupted. "When I found you, I didn't know what to do." In one swift motion, he pressed me up against his chest. It hurt, a little; he was strong. But I didn't complain. I could tell that he was seriously upset. He had every right to do whatever he wanted to me. I had already decided that my life belonged to him. For a moment, he tried to collect himself, then –

"There was so much blood. Kolm said that you wouldn't live through the night. I didn't want to believe that you would do something so drastic. All these years, I…" I heard him swallow thickly. "I tried to believe that you had found happiness. Despite how much I yearned for you to return…"

Here was that boy again. Here was that gentle soul that I had fallen in love with all those years ago. This was the boy that had never been good with words. This was the boy that always proved his thoughts with actions. Yet he was opening himself to me now – completely trusting me as he had trusted no other.

"I should _never_ have let you go," he said fiercely. I couldn't move. Again, I was trapped in a moment that I did not want to break. He buried his face into my neck. I felt his breaths tickling my nape. Then his lips were there – so soft, so pliant – planting kisses under my ear, trailing down to my collarbone. It was a poignant moment in my life. Something changed in me; the pall of negativity that had been haunting me peeled back like a curtain from my eyes.

This man wanted me; this man needed me – this man _yearned_ for me just as strongly as I craved his presence. Now that I completely understood that, I knew that there was no more room for fear. Now that my heart was filled with him, nothing else remained. Nothing but the knowledge that my place was by his side.

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**Author's Corner:(a.k.a me nervously babbling about random nonsense)  
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**Well, another chapter finished. I was so happy to see a few more responses from you guys :) **

**This chapter really drained me, emotionally. I connected with the characters on a completely different level than I ever have before. The story is taking a rather dark tone. I had anticipated that it would learn towards angst, but I hadn't expected to implement elements of horror into it until today. I like the way is it going and I think you guys will enjoy what I have planned.**

**I'm already working hard on the next installment. Can't wait to hear more from you guys. **

**Your devoted author, **

**FantomBlack  
**


	6. To a Place Called You

**Voyager**

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**Part 2 - Van**

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Chapter 5 – To a Place Called You

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Fire always stirred up bad memories for me. When I saw flames, I remembered my brother's face – my brother, whom I could never forgive. After all these years, I should have found a way to let go of the rage in my heart; but such a release had proven itself to be impossible. I had mourned his death – at least, a part of me had. But forgiveness was out of my reach. The notion had crossed my mind so many times; Hitomi had given me that opportunity. Yet, every time I tried to release the pain in my heart, I felt the rage trying to consume me. Anger, fury, retribution – I was too familiar with them. For years, I had been their prisoner. For years, I had done their bidding. After I watched my family and country burn, I transformed into someone else. The world became my enemy; my life became an endless hunt. I no longer cared what methods I was forced to use to get my vengeance; I no longer shuddered at the thought of cutting down my fellow man. Slowly, I let my conscience fade away, until I could kill without mercy, take lives without consequence.

I met Allen Schezar and the Abaharaki on the battlefield. I wanted no alliances or kinship - simply a way to reach my goal. The men agreed with me. Every battle was a risk; we knew that any day could be our last. So, we kept our distance. Though some believed we were companions, we were nothing of the sort. I put up with Allen's arrogance only because I knew that I could use him to achieve my own agenda. As the days passed, my mind became a dark void. Merle tried to talk to me; she would often sit and recall our days in Adom. I didn't want to hear it. Eventually, I tuned out her voice. I was awake even when I slept; I wanted blood, I wanted death; I wanted to take the life of every man that stood in my way. I had been so close to giving into that murderous part of me. I would have lost myself, had I not met _her_.

Hitomi.

When I thought that I was past the point of redemption, she took my hand and showed me the light. For the first time since I'd seen my family turn into white ash, I felt that I could try to hope for something more than endless conflict in my life. The restlessness in my soul began to calm. With her by my side, the dragon in me slept. It was a novelty, having someone that was not my family waiting for me, depending on me, _praying_ for me. I thought that she would come to fear me when she saw how ruthless I could be; but even when she was witness to the worst of my behaviors, she did not turn away. Instead, she beckoned to a side of me that I had abandoned long ago. She showed me that my way of doing things was wrong. In those days, I thought that I could finally return to long-awaited harmony, but then, she disappeared. When she spread her wings and flew away from me – out of my life and into some other world – I thought that I would fall to pieces. She had brought out the vulnerable part of me, the part that I hidden behind impregnable walls and sharp thorns.

_Why?_ – I had wondered. Why had she done that only to abandon me again?

From that time on, chaos had raged inside of me. Although peace reigned among the countries of Gaia for years, my heart was still trapped within an endless battle. For the first few months, I waited for her to reappear. I thought that I could see her in the crowd; I swore that I could hear her calling out to me. Eventually, I came to terms with the knowledge that she would not descend again. I drifted from fury, to all-consuming loneliness, and finally to a helplessness that was so acute I felt it might destroy me. I felt weak, debilitated. Merle and I traveled the countryside, seeking Fanelian survivors of the war. Together, we began sifting through the ruins of my homeland. When I wasn't working, I was looking at the place where the Mystic Moon should have been. It did me no good. My helplessness became obsession. I sought out any task to occupy my time, just so that my mind would not have the strength to stray. More months passed; they flew by unnoticed, marked only by the small achivements made with the renovations.

Among the many artifacts that we found to be intact were a series of portraits dedicated to my ancestors. My father's likeness was one of the first ones that we found. After that, I spent hours looking into his eyes, asking him silently for his strength –a strength that I still recalled with awe. I tried to sort out the tangles in my feelings, but only wound up making a worse mess. I missed Escaflowne; I missed fighting; I missed being able to lose myself among the soldiers, only worrying about instincts and survival. This new life of regret and bittersweet rememberance was not for me. I told my father this. I spoke to him as though he was alive. But, as should have been expected, my sire retained his silence. His stern gaze ridiculed me; he disapproved of my confusion. Although his regal bearing was nothing but a set of brush strokes, I felt his dissapointment in me keenly.

_Forgive me, father_ – I often said. _I cannot find the strength to forget what I have lost_.

Truthfully, when I heard of the destruction that Medina wrought, I was excited – relieved even. It was a chance for freedom, an opportunity to forget my regret and misery. I immersed myself into my country; I became one with my people and their problems. I forced myself to think of nothing farther than the present day, believing that my pain would eventually dull to an ordinary ache. I had almost succeeded. Dilandau's invasion was swift; actions had to be taken quickly; decisions had to be made in a heartbeat. I hired new generals, I trained countless soldiers, I built defenses, and prepared for battle. Fearing for the safety of her people, Merle – an adult now with responsibilities – had requested to go to Adom. The small village was in danger of being swallowed by Medina's tyranny. She believed that she could convince the elders to order an evacuation. I gave my word that I would do my best to shelter them.

When she left, my solitude grew even more; without her abundant energy and optimism, I found myself drowning in the bleakness that was life without my Goddess. I recalled every moment that we'd ever shared; wondered if I could have made any of them better. I was heading down the path of self-destruction. Realizing that I could not continue moving in this dangerous direction, I offered to assist Asturia on the frontlines. The battles had reached the outskirts of Fanelia's forests. If I did not act quickly, I would guarantee my country's doom. Again, I fell into the pattern of silent apathy. I slashed through my opponents with the same ease that I had felt back in the first war. I gave myself up to the battlefield until I drowned my agony in the blood of hundreds. I trained ceaselessly; I expanded my knowledge; I grew into the role of monarch. I wrapped the mantle of the title "king" around myself until my "self" was far from recognizable. I no longer said taboo words such as "me" or "I". I was Van Slanzar De Fanel – king of Fanelia – and I spoke for its people. "Van" was no longer one person, but all the people of his country. Only by doing this could I distance myself from my propensity to recall the past.

Every time I thought of _her_, I would tell myself that she was happier away from here. Surely, I did not want to see her suffer the constant conflict that seemed to so much a part of Gaia. Surely, I desired only the best for her; surely, I didn't want to see the pain of homesickness on her face. It became a litany. I repeated it until I began to believe in something that was nothing more than speculation. Not once had I felt her presence; not once had I heard her voice. _She's moved on_ – I told myself. _It is time for me to do the same…_

Wanting to find a release for my torment, I began to lead small bands of men on missions to attack strategic points on the Medinean front. Though we managed a few victories, these small excursions were a failed attempt at gaining an advantage. It was as through the enemy knew exactly what we thought – how we operated, what we planned. Secretly, in my heart, I hoped to meet Dilandau in the field. I yearned to fight him, even if it meant that I had to become a killer once again. My hopes were ignored; my wishes went unanswered. I never saw the madman. Either he had turned into a coward, or he was very tallented at hiding from the worst of danger. The campaign against tyranny was not going well for us.

When Asturia's prize fleet was lost among the wandering earth, the war took a turn for the worse. Fanelia's army was still small. We did not lose many, but every loss was felt keenly. They weren't simply numbers – they were my _subjects_, the people that had grown closer to me with every passing year. My conquests on the battlefield came to mean much more than simple victory; I was protecting my land, my people, my _future_. It was then that I realized that the future would indeed come to me. I would drive Dilandau back and secure peace once more, both for my people and for myself. I understood that my path would be one of solitude. Perhaps I would have to face the coming years alone, but I would see them. I would witness the passing of time, the growth of my country, the flourishing of the land. Perhaps I might even father an heir to the throne with a faceless woman. Or maybe she would not be so faceless; maybe I would come to feel a fondness for her. A fondness only; I would never love again. I would never allow such a weakness near my heart again. I thought I was cured. At last, I could let my Goddess go; at last, I could stop wishing that I had been able to keep her by my side.

Then it happened.

Fate must have a cruel sense of humor.

Just when I felt that I was finally ready to release my suffering, Hitomi fell into my arms.

I did not see Escaflowne descend; I did not care that it was disappearing.

I all saw was _her_; all I felt was _her_.

As soon as I perceived her warmth again, I needed nothing else.

I kissed her. There was no way that I could stop myself. I needed her like I needed air; I wanted her as I would have wanted to see the sun, to spread my wings, to feel the wind. I held her close to me and allowed myself to stand still, taking in her scent, feeling her skin yielding under my firm grip. But then, I saw that she was gravely injured, and my elation disappeared. She died in my arms; died just moments after our first kiss. Everything melted away – the people around me, the trees, the weight of everything that had happened up until this moment. Frantic, I tried to restart her frozen heart; by some miracle, I was successful. Heedless of the men who watched, heedless of my general trying to hold me back, I wrapped her in my cape - covered in the life-blood of my enemies - spread my wings, and flew frantically to our campaign's physician.

She slept like the dead; she did not blink or move for days. She did not stir even when we transported her back into the heart of Fanelia. Her heart beat sluggishly – I checked every time that I could manage it. I pressed my ear to her fragile chest and listened to the rhythm of her slumber. She had survived. Somehow, she had made it through the worst of it. At least, that's what I had believed back then. I was confident that now that she was with me, everything would be alright. But, upon our return, the healer's diagnosis shocked me to the core. I understood the meaning of "self-inflicted" when he told me of her wounds, but I wished I didn't have to. My litany, my belief that she was happy, and my illusions were scattered to the four winds. I was furious. What had happened? What could have made her feel so desperate that she would take her own life? There was no way of knowing until she woke, and for a time, I feared that her eyes would never look at me again.

She had nightmares. Her screams resounded through the halls for days. They ate through my resolve; they shattered my will. Kolm, the head physician, ordered her to be tied down. She thrashed around so violently that her wounds did not have a chance to heal. That's when she finally awakened; opened her eyes to something that terrified her so much that she'd flown down hallways for hours before I caught her. I had never seen such terror on her face. It shook me. This girl, who had saved my life on countless occasions, this girl who had never shown cowardice before an enemy, was now reduced to shambles of her old self. I didn't understand what she was shouting; it must have been in the language of the Mystic Moon; however, I knew that she did not want to be touched. For the second time, I caught her in my arms and felt myself falling farther and farther into despair.

I was torn. There was nothing more I wished to do than to stay by her side and try to reassure her, but the events around Fanelia did not allow for such a luxury. I was called away to fight almost immediately after the incident in the halls. Farir, my brigadier general, tried to ease my obvious distress with daily reports on her condition, but nothing served to ease my heavy heart. I lead a campaign against Medina's army that should have taken months. Our goal was to push back two groups of enemies from the western coast of Asturia. In my desperation, I pushed forward feverishly and finished the offensive in mere weeks. We lost most of our armored levi-ships to poor strategic planning and only managed to come out victorious thanks to the will of the Gods. I understood that my men were burdened by my madness, but I could do nothing but hope that they could forgive my rash behavior someday.

At last, Asturian forces arrived to reinforce the headway we had gained. I left Farir in charge and rushed back to my Fanelia, to my home, to the Goddess that was withering away within. I pushed the horses until they were exhausted and could run no more. From there, I flew. I arrived at the castle in a daze. I hadn't had anything to eat or drink; I hadn't slept for days. Upon my arrival, I was told that Hitomi was awake. I felt that I would be sick with worry. Would she scream again if she saw me? Would I see that look of horror on her face? Despite my doubts, my urgency took over. I did not bother to change out of my heavy armor; I did not bother to wash the war paint off my face. I rushed to her chambers, only to be intercepted by Kolm's plea for my discretion. At first, he was worried for my own safety. I must have looked a fright. But I had been through worse, I told him. When I had traveled with the Abaharaki, conditions had been more demanding than this. I moved past him, but he grabbed my arm. He warned that seeing me might frighten Hitomi to the point of danger, but I did not listen. I burst into the chamber and finally saw her. Again, I felt that I would be sick.

She stood, illuminated by the setting sun, her pale skin caressed by the soft white light of winter. Her hair was a little longer than I remembered; it gently framed a face so haunted that I thought I might shed tears for the first time in my life. Why did I feel this way when I saw her? Why was it only her that could undo me so completely? She was the sole weakness in my barrier to feeling; she was the single crack in my resolve. She had wrapped her arms around herself, as if she would break into pieces if she did not hold herself together. Never had I hated my position more than I did in that moment. Damn the war; damn Dilandau; curse the madman's tyranny! I wanted to devote myself entirely to her – to give the last ounce of my power so that she could be whole again.

"Hitomi…" I said through the convulsions in my throat. She turned to look at me and I forgot everything but the emeralds that were her eyes. Though bruised and injured, though too thin and much too pale, she was still the most beautiful of creatures in my vision. "Kolm, leave us." I commanded through the thick haze of my emotions. I can't say I recall him leaving. All I could do was hold myself back from rushing to her. Then she shattered; I could see it. The sunlight caught the glistening of tears before she fell. Cursing my resolve to stay away from her to hell, I followed. My hand only slightly grazed her shoulder, when she looked up at me.

"Please don't…" she begged me. "I'll do anything."

_Anything? You'll do anything to avoid my touch? _

I wanted to show her that she had nothing to fear. I kissed her wrists, wishing that my lips could heal the jagged cuts, wishing that I could draw out her sorrow as poison from a bite. She turned her face away, her features pained. I turned her face back to mine.

"Do not turn away from Us…" I pleaded. What did she see in me? Did she think I was a specter, an embodiment of her nightmares? "Do not fear Us. We will allow nothing to hurt you ever again. This, We swear…" She shrunk away from me. Did I repulse her so? Did the mere thought of my nearness make her so ill? Irrational fury forced my hand. I would _not be_ refused – not after waiting all these years to touch her. She was saying something, but I didn't hear. There was only the desire to silence her, to show her how much I _wanted_ her. I grasped her shoulders, knowing that I might be hurting her; I was too far gone to stop. No words would come into my head; no reassurances. I had never been good at such frivolities. So, I did the only thing that I could think of. I stole her lips. I ravaged them; tasted her sweetness; felt her softness as I had never been able to do. I thought that I could kiss her for eternity; I would never tire of the nectar that was her breath. At first, I felt her hesitation, but as I deepened my passion, I felt that she was just as lost as I was. When I pulled away, I felt as though I'd lost a piece of myself. There were tears in her eyes; her breathing was heavy. I suddenly experienced a moment of clarity. She was not afraid of me. I had been wrong.

"Please don't send me away…" she whispered. At first, I could not understand what she was asking. Her plea was so irrational, that it took me a moment to understand what she meant. Her request denied all logic. At last, I saw the truth in her eyes. I did not repulse her; I did not frighten her. Something else was weighing heavily upon her small shoulders. Again, the words took a long time to arrange themselves within my head.

"How could you think such things?" I asked incredulously. Send her away? She must be out of her wits to believe that I was capable of something like that. "When We have thought of nothing but this day since the moment that you flew away from Us?" I was speaking formally, I realized. When had I slipped into that habit? Surely, now that she had come back to me, I could become "myself" again.

When she started crying, I felt my heart drop into my stomach. My mind went blank. I was at a complete loss. Her sobbing drowned out my rationale. Each hitch in her voice tugged at my lungs; each sudden breath crashed into me with ice-cold agony. What could I do? What should I be doing? Merle had cried before, but her tears always seemed childish. In her case, all she needed was a pat on the head for comfort. But Hitomi was no child, and her anguish was not a child's half-hearted injury. She sobbed like her soul would be torn asunder, and I did not know how to prevent it.

I'd never faced enemy that was as vague as this. If I could have seen the source of her woe, I would have utterly destroyed it. I would have ripped it to shreds! But she did not speak. She did not tell me what was hurting her so much. I begged for her to speak me; I pleaded for her to remove the blindfold that prevented me from understanding what was wrong. I crushed her to my chest, forgetting that I was wearing heavy armor, forgetting about the fact that she was hurt. Her cries were knives that splayed open all my scars. I was short of breath; I was panicking; I understood that there was absolutely nothing I could do to help her. I rocked her back and forth, remembering how my mother had comforted my crying.

Finally, her sobbing died down. She fell into a dead faint.

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**Author's Corner: (a.k.a me nervously babbling about nothing)**

**Well, please don't kill me. This was my first attempt at Van's point of view. I realize that it is short, but I felt that repeating all the scenes between them would not be very interesting. I decided to focus on their reunion and his feelings about its nature. **

**I believed this would be a good way of introducing you to his thoughts. **

**I hope it turned out alright…**

**-FantomBlack**


	7. From a Place Called Reunion

Voyager

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****Chapter 7 – From A Place Called Reunion **

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The garden had been built in memory of my mother.

During the reconstruction of my home, I had changed the original castle's design. I made it stronger, more practical, less vulnerable to the elements. In the end, however, this had robbed it of its beauty. I was too young to remember everything exactly as it was, but I knew that in my childhood, this castle had been a vision to behold. Vaguely, I remembered that the roof was blue; I had slipped on those shingles more than once. Visitors always praised Fanelian design; its architecture was unmatched, they'd said. When I looked back after it was finished, I realized that the place was barren. There wasn't a single part of it that truly pleased the eye.

_I don't need anything like that_ – I told myself; but had built the garden anyway.

My mother had loved flowers.

Before the oracle; before the fateful day on which mine and my brother's fate had torn us apart, we used to run around the forests, looking for the rare white roses, hoping to please our mother at the end of every day. Strange how those memories felt as though they did not belong to me; as though they were from a past life – a good life. The oracle was never far from my brother's mind, but at the time, I was not yet afraid of the future. My brother was loved by the people; he was kind, gentle, and responsible. My father had great hopes for him. And, naturally, because I adored him, I could not imagine him as anything other than the sovereign. We had often spoken of what would happen after he became the ruling monarch. I was not fond of fighting; I did not enjoy swordplay as he did. Dune believed that I would outgrow these silly notions and wanted to make me his brigadier general after he assumed the throne. In those days, I believed that my brother knew best about all things.

However, our happiness did not last. Advisors from many nations came to our country and in a large procession we came to the oracle for advice. In front of hundreds of witnesses, she claimed that Dune was not fit to be king. She walked to me, put her hand on my head, and proclaimed that I was to rule and guide Fanelia into a new age of prosperity. Should my father allow Dune to wear the crown, she'd warned, Fanelia would fall into darkness and its people would suffer under endless plagues of hardship. There were many things that happened, then. I was so shocked at the brutality of the events that my mind must have locked away the memories. I _do_ remember that there was great calamity. My brother flew into a rage. He took my father's sword – the royal sword – and tore the oracle to pieces. There was so much blood. It soaked him from head to toe. In the aftermath, no one moved; everyone was paralyzed with disbelief. After the madness left him, my brother looked disbelievingly at me then at his hands. That was the last time I saw sanity in his eyes. He escaped deep into the forests, well beyond the Dragonlands, until my father believed that he was too far from Fanelia to cause her any harm.

_Those are the Dragonlands_ – he had explained. No one survived in the Dragonlands for more than a few days, at best.

I mourned my brother; I mourned our fate. We had been closer than two drops of water in a pool. Worst of all, I had never dreamed that I would be the one to take his dreams away. My mother mourned her lost son until she began to waste away with grief. She stopped eating; she stopped moving; for hours, she sat in her room and stared out the window, repeating my brother's name. Months passed; inevitably, summer became fall, and fall became a harsh winter. After Dune's disappearance, my father had doubled my workload; I had to be taught everything quickly and efficiently. I had to be made ready to assume the throne as soon as possible. After a while, I found out that my father was sick. The doctors had predicted that he only had several months left to live. Desperately, he pushed me to finish my education. He needed a strong ruler to take his place after he was gone.

Spring had slowly begun to settle over our valley when the castle was attacked. The fires started in the lower bailey but quickly licked upwards until they consumed the entire west wing. My mother, who still had not moved from her room, was burned alive. I tried to save her, but wasn't strong enough to move her body. One of the servants dragged me away from her before I, too, could burn. She took me to the throne room where everyone was to gather in the case of fire; how I wished that she had not. Even through the raging flames, I could see my brother standing by the thrones. His face was devoid of any reason or logic; it was a madman's face – an expression that would haunt me for the rest of my life. I looked down the length of his arm; a bloody mass was held there. With horror, I realized that it was my father's head; only, my father was hardly recognizable. Dune had beaten his face before beheading him. There were large gashes slicing up both cheeks; his nose a broken chunk of flesh; I could only see the whites of his eyes. The head had been severed uncleanly; blood vessels hung like bloody, torn, ropes from his neck.

I couldn't forget that night, even though I tried. No matter how heartless I believed I had become, those events still gave me nightmares. It was the people of Adom who saved me from myself. Bereft of hope, I had wandered far from Fanelia until I collapsed from lack of food and water. Rhum, the leader of the tribe, found me and took care of me; the village had heard about my story and of Dune's betrayal. The elders urged me to hold onto my hope, that someday I could rebuild Fanelia and restore it to its former glory. Though, at the time, I could not allow myself to hope for something so unlikely, I had done just that.

Maybe I had built the garden to in memory of my mother, who was too pure of heart to believe any evil of my brother even when it showed itself right before her eyes. I wanted to see the purity of her beliefs every day; I wanted to own it, to smell it, to hold it. Then again, maybe I had built it in memory of the Goddess who had flown away from me. The white color of the roses reminded me of her soft skin; the peace in the garden reminded me of how she'd often made me feel. I had always imagined her sitting in that garden, a picture of loveliness and serenity. I became so used to imagining her sitting there that when I actually saw her resting on the bench, I thought I might be dreaming. The wind picked up her scent and brought it to my nose. I inhaled deeply.

No. This was not a dream. Hitomi sat right there, within my reach. Her eyes were distant as she gazed all around her. It was the first time that I'd seen such calm on her face since she'd fallen from the sky. That's when I noticed that her skin was bare; she was dressed only in a thin gown made of reza, a material that was comfortable but too fragile to provide any warmth. Unclasping the fur cloak from my shoulders, I slowly walked to her, hesitant to disturb her peace.

"Does it please you?" I asked after wrapping her in the thick wolf fur. My eyes settled on the center fountain. I had asked the sculptor to try and re-create the image of Hitomi, as I'd seen her. The real Hitomi turned to look at me, surprise on her expression.

"Very much," she said gently. I sat down and pulled her close, chastising her for being so reckless as to come out into the cold when she was hardly covered. Then she asked about what happened after she left. Where could I begin? I was hesitant to burden her with the knowledge of the troubles we faced. If her injuries were any indication, then life had given her enough troubles already. Still, she was persistent, so I explained the past few years in as short a summary as I could. At last, I reached the part in the explanation that worried me most. The nobles and monarchs of the surrounding countries had gathered together to discuss a plan for war against Dilandau. Naturally, one of the first topics mentioned was the Wing Goddess. The Abaharaki were blamed for monopolizing her in the first war. Now, they said, she would endow all countries equally with her blessings. They tried to make the situation sound fair for all nations, but I knew that a different kind of conflict would break out should Hitomi return to even one of them. I thought about keeping the information from her, but she gave me a look that left me with no room for argument. I told her what the nobles planned and saw how terrified she became after hearing the news.

I swore to protect her, not just with words, but with my entire being. She hid her face against my chest, but I saw the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. Feeling her pain as though it were my own, I strengthened my embrace, hoping to show her that I would always be by her side. "Do not be afraid," I said thickly. "No one will ever take you from me again…" I meant it. Be it fate, the Gods, or the enemy – no one would tear her away from me. No one would ever hurt her again.

I heard the messenger approaching long before he interrupted us. I listened carefully to his message and felt a stirring of unease. If the ship belonged to the royal family of Asturia, then there was no way that I could allow someone else to greet them. If the ship belonged to Allen Schezar – well, there was no way of knowing if it did. I ordered for the royal carriage to be prepared, just in case. As the man was leaving, I caught the way he looked at Hitomi – it was the way someone might look at something unpleasant. Fear crept up my spine. Though the staff that I employed in my castle was trustworthy, I was still paranoid. Should anyone somehow find out that the Wing Goddess had returned, it would mean disaster. Hitomi's life would be in danger; Fanelia's already precarious well-being would be pushed ever farther towards the edge of doom. Though I worried about my country, about my subjects, Hitomi was my first priority. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to protect her if Fanelia was attacked full force. Not wanting for her to see how deeply worried I was, I picked her up and carried her back to her room. She wanted to protest, but I would have none of it. After putting her to bed, I set off to greet the Asturian convoy.

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Before the war, Fanelia did not have its own harbor. I'd never really seen the ocean until I went to Asturia for the first time. However, after the Black Dragon's rampage through the continent, much of the land had changed. In the places where they'd used explosives, a massive lake rose up from underground to envelop a large part of the Dragonlands. That same lake spilled into the eastern border of Fanelia and allowed us to build a small dock in its waters. Now traffic into the country was no longer restricted to caravans and royal carriages. Having a levi-ship dock meant a boost for the economy as well. We began to import fish and different kinds of crafts from the far reaches of the ocean. New jobs were created and Fanelia flourished with the newest styles of clothes and furnishings. My father had always wanted to keep Fanelia as a historic reminder of the Gaian culture, but I believed that there was no longer any need to hold my country back from progress.

I took the short trip to the docks. Farir was waiting for me there. As soon as I saw the ship myself, I knew that it belonged to the Queen. There was a rose painted on the side of the huge, blue vessel. A red rose. Queen Millerna's personal emblem. I motioned for the guards to open access to the docking station. Twenty, perhaps thirty soldiers – all with roses emblazoned on their armor – filed out from the ship onto the bridge. Queen Millerna was dressed in a traveling habit – a rich velvet the color of purple violets; it was the Asturian royal color. From the looks of things, I assumed that she had come alone, but as soon as I saw Gaddess exiting from the back entrance of the convoy, I realized that Allen must have come as well. Truthfully, I wasn't certain how I felt about that. The man and I had never really been on good terms, and that was apart from the fact that he had been so intent on wooing Hitomi.

I bowed to the Queen and kissed her hand; to my surprise, she waved me off.

"No need for that between us, Your Majesty." Leaning forward, she lightly flicked my nose. "Not after everything we shared."

Though I was embarrassed by her actions, I was relieved to see that she hadn't changed at all from the flirtatious young woman that I remembered. Things would have been too awkward otherwise. Before I could say a word in response, she took my arm and led me to my own carriage. Flustered, I gave her a hand up. When we were sitting together, she whispered to me –

"Allen will be joining us soon. I regret that we had to save our first meeting for a serious matter such as this."

Confused, I asked her what she was talking about.

"Oh? You haven't heard? Salas has sent a messenger with an offer for alliance."

It took me a moment to understand what she was saying. Salas? The isolated country to the north? She reassured me that she was not mistaken.

"Why now? Surely they don't feel threatened by Medina."

"I can't be sure," she explained sadly. "I was hoping that we could try to get your input on it since you are their bordering nation. We have no idea about anything that goes on in that country. Father and I have had enough trouble keeping up with Izgardia and Rintia to noticed a country as far away as Salas, especially since they've been so isolated for hundreds of years."

My mind was already thinking fast. Salas was surrounded on all sides by mountains. The only way to get through the border was to pass through the treacherous Dragonlands, and I was certain that Dilandau would not risk it. The only reason I could think of that such a closed-off country would offer an alliance was that they were planning something; something not necessarily to our advantage. I turned my gaze out the window, my eyes following the herders and farmers as they worked hard to earn a living. If Sala's offer was a trap, then all of these people would suffer the consequences. I suddenly wished that my father was here to guide me; I wasn't confident that I had what it took to make such monumental decisions.

"Oh Van, it's beautiful!"

Unused to someone calling me by my given name, I looked at Millerna in surprise only to see that she was looking in awe at Fanelia's castle. From where I sat, it seemed like a looming, grey mass. I had attempted to reconstruct the previous, blue, roof that I remembered from my childhood; I worried that it looked gaudy somehow. But Millerna did not seem to mind; she complimented this and that as we passed by the marketplace, the houses, and finally entered the courtyard of the castle.

"You've done most wonderfully rebuilding all of this, Your Majesty," she told me as we were welcomed into the Great Hall by the guards. Immediately we retired into the Green Room – the room used for royalty and generals to discuss important matters such as warfare. Allen came to join us shortly. His hair was just as long as I remembered; his eyes hadn't changed at all. He still walked with a grace that I envied; every stitch of clothing was perfect; not a hair was out of place. I remembered the days when I had wanted to be like him – to possess his natural charm, his prowess with the sword, his talent for flustering the girl that I loved. At the same time, I had hated him. Our time with the Abaharaki was a tumultuous period of constant rivalry – Hitomi had only made it worse.

"Announcing Allen Schezar, First Order Knight Caeli of Asturia."

He took a seat next to his queen, bowing to her and kissing her hand like I had. Immediately, he propped his elbows on the table and looked me straight in the eye.

"I've heard that our little bird has returned from heaven."

I couldn't help it. I panicked. Forgetting for the moment that I was a ruler of a country and had to act accordingly, I stood up and knocked over my chair. My fingers were already on the hilt of my sword, ready to draw it when the Queen's voice came between us –

"Your Majesty, please be assured that we have told no one."

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the man before me. That same, mischievous, almost evil, smile was on his face. Did this man not understand that there were consequences to his actions? Hadn't he always been the rational one in the group?

"Where did you hear such nonsense?" I demanded to know, cold sweat running down my spine.

"We both know that it is far from nonsense. Though Her Majesty has come to speak of the alliance between Salas, I have come to ask how you plan on keeping our Goddess safe."

I gritted my teeth against the sudden, unexplainable, jealousy that threatened to overtake me. _My_ Goddess, I thought angrily. _She was never yours_.

"I don't believe that this is any of your business, _Knight_." My voice was low - dangerous.

His eyes narrowed, the blue sparkling with simmering annoyance. I had been under the impression that he'd let her go. Had I been wrong? Did he still harbor feelings for Hitomi? Did his presence still threaten our relationship?

"I swore that I would protect her, so anything that threatens her safety is my business, _Majesty_."

My hand tightened its grip on my sword. I thought it would be most inappropriate to attack Allen here, in the room where peace was supposed to be discussed. Subconsciously, I was shocked that the man could still get such a rise out of me, especially while having said so little.

"You are relieved of your vow, Allen" I bit out. "Rest assured that she will be safe here in Fanelia."

For a moment, we tried to stare each other down before Millerna heaved a great sigh.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure we are all concerned about Hitomi. But for the moment, can we please discuss the more pressing problems at hand?"

I sat down, the wind blown out of me. With great effort, I reigned in my emotions and reminded myself of my responsibilities. My anger did not die down, however. The rash, childish part of me wanted to strike Allen down where he sat, although I knew that this could potentially start a war between Fanelia and Asturia; not to mention, we were reluctant companions. I wondered, briefly, if this companionship could last through a fight over a woman.

For several hours, we discussed the possible reasons for Salas to offer us their help. In the end, we could not come to any satisfying conclusion. Briefly, we touched on the subject of Hitomi's powers. Allen suggested asking her to try to read Salas's intentions; Millerna and I both adamantly refused. I did not explain her condition. There was no need for anyone to know her situation just yet. It would be up to Hitomi to reveal her circumstances on her own. At last, I felt that we were getting nowhere in our conversation so I offered to break for a meal. Neither Allen nor Millerna objected so I escorted them to the dining hall. As for myself, I had other things on my mind. I wanted to see Hitomi. A thrill went through me when I thought of seeing her again. I expected to see some progress in her condition, but was rewarded with the opposite. When I arrived at the doors to her chambers, a servant girl stood there with two young boys. Confused, I demanded to know what was going on.

"Majesty," the girl looked uncomfortable. "This morning, we heard her Ladyship shouting. I came in to see what happened and we…" she hesitated, looking at the floor.

"Well?" I asked angrily, frustrated at her reluctance.

"We found her under the bed. Soren and Tiser helped lift it off of her or she would have suffocated."

My heart dropped into my stomach. I was suddenly frantic for her safety.

"She's alright now, but she isn't speaking to anyone. Truly, she was not herself."

I put a hand on the woman's shoulder and looked at her carefully.

"Tell no one of this." She nodded. "If We hear a single rumor circulating, We shall know who was responsible." I left the threat hanging in the air, a heavy warning and promise of severe punishment. Pushing open the door, I stepped into her room.

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I found her huddled in the darkest corner of the chamber, her arms wrapped around her knees and her head hidden from view. There were clumps of dust in her hair and her clothes were wrinkled. I walked forward slowly, worried that I might startle her.

"Don't look at me," I heard her mumble. "Don't come near me…"

Somehow, I knew that she was just distressed. I decided that I would try to comfort her just with my presence, hoping that she would eventually acknowledge me. When minutes passed and she still did not move from her miserable position on the floor, I decided to try a different tactic.

"The country of Salas has offered Fanelia and Asturia an alliance," I explained. "Queen Millerna has arrived to tell Us this in person. Salas is a nation of warriors that has isolated itself from all of us for years. Larger countries like Asturia and Izgardia have sent countless messengers to seek a pact with the Salasians. They all returned empty-handed."

Still, she remained silent.

"To accept an alliance with them is tempting. Asturia has limited resources now and Fanelia is not yet strong enough to stand alone on the front. Although Izgardia believes that they are safe from the threat of war, it won't be long before they are affected as well. Queen Millerna believes it is a great honor to receive such an offer from the warriors. In all of recorded history, Salas has never reached out to anyone. Not even their style of warfare is known. All those who have tried to lay siege to that country have fallen into ruin. So, why now? They are well-hidden behind their mountains and behind the Dragon Valley that surrounds Fanelia."

At last, she spoke –

"It's weird for them to be offering their help all of a sudden. That's what you mean, right? Why don't they just stay in their lands and defend them like they've always done?" A beat. "You think it's a trap," she offered.

"You have always been able to see into the situation better than myself," I explained, again dropping my honorific. "Do you believe this offer of peace is genuine?" I looked at her critically. My question was sincere. Her opinion was very important to me. Without any training or prior studies, Hitomi had always been able to sense what others intended to do. Even without her mysterious powers, she was the most perceptive person I had ever met.

"Honestly, I don't believe that I can make this decision without your input," I confessed reluctantly, worried that I was showing a weakness before her. She still looked disturbed. I could only hope that my placing my trust in her would show her how much she meant to me, and how I would always love her no matter the situation. After that, we spoke for a while. I held her as she told me of her life on the Mystic Moon, and though I tried to keep my anger in check, I still felt myself trembling with the need to murder those who had done such horrid things to my Goddess. I attempted to tell her about all the times I'd tried to convince myself that she was happy at home, but failed. No words would come out past my fury. I gave up; instead, I simply hugged her tighter, wishing that I could somehow absorb all of her troubles and sorrows.

"I should never have let you go," I told her, putting every scrap of sincerity that I could into the words. At last, I felt her embrace me with her full strength and hoped that from now on, everything would only get better.

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**Author's Corner: (a.k.a me blabbering on about random things)**

**Well, another chapter out the door. I decided to give you guys this scene from Van's point of view as well, since I felt that what he thought was very important to the story. **

**I hope you've enjoyed this installment. I'm sorry that it's pretty short again. **

**I'm already working hard on the next chapter, so please give me your support! **

**Your loving author, **

**FantomBlack**


	8. To a Place Called Sight

**Voyager**

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Chapter 8 – To a Place Called Sight**

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Part 3 - Hitomi**

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Allen Schezar was in Fanelia.

I still wasn't sure what I thought about that.

When Van had told me that he was here with Queen Millerna, I wasn't sure how I felt. Now, as I walked towards the place Van called the Green Room, I still wasn't certain if his presence was a good sign or not. I tried to recall our first meeting, how he'd saved me from a burglar; how I'd mistaken him for someone that I liked on Earth. With that bright, blonde hair and angelic blue eyes, I imagined that he was the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on. But back then, I had been a girl – a child with unrealistic dreams and expectations. I often wondered what he thought of me. Did he see the child in me? Or did he see the woman that I would become? We had shared an embrace, once – even a kiss. Both times, it had felt…odd, as though we were two different species. I remember looking into his face; I hadn't realized then what I was really looking at.

Van led me around a corner in the hallway and opened the door for me. The Green Room was made of jade. I was awestruck. The walls, the ceiling, the floor – everything was made of green marble. On the walls, creatures of all shapes and sizes were etched into the rock; on the ceiling, incredibly detailed wooden carvings of soldiers and warriors made me feel as though I were part of the battle raging on its surface. I held my breath, my hand coming up to clutch at the neckline of my gown. To think that there were craftsmen somewhere in Fanelia that could make things like this…Van put his hand on my shoulder. I turned to him and smiled.

"This is incredible. I've never seen anything like it."

At my compliment, his back straightened a little; he looked quite proud. And why not? He had every reason to be. I wanted to stand there and take in the details more closely, but our moment was interrupted by a powerful voice from behind.

"Wing Goddess…" it boomed out. I whipped around and saw the man that had just been in my thoughts. Allen Schezar. He walked steadily to me and when he was close enough, he bent his knees and knelt before me, grasping a handful of my skirt and kissing the hem. To say that I was embarrassed was beyond an understatement. I felt my face heat up; my heart skipped a beat. Yes, this was the same Allen – flirtatious playboy and incurable womanizer. Still, I suppose I could never be completely immune to his charms – I _had_, after all, loved him once.

"Please, Allen…" I pleaded, more than a little aware of the heated aura emanating from the king at my side. I noticed that the knight had not given up his black uniform. He still wore the dark, knee-length tunic that I'd seen him in when he was still a part of the Abaharaki. It was no small wonder that he'd made an impression on me then. A deadly sword was strapped to his side, the hilt wrapped in fine leather. As he knelt forward, strands of his magnificent, blonde hair fell to cover his face. I remembered how I had briefly touched that softness. He lifted his gaze to mine and I was even more flustered by the fire that graced those sky blue eyes. Curse those long eyelashes; damn that overbearing confidence. I felt sorry for all the hearts he'd broken and all those that he would break again.

"I am honored to be in your presence," he said. There was a hidden undertone in his words that I couldn't quite fathom. Then again, there had always been so many things I didn't understand about this man. For all the sincerity he radiated, he had too many dark secrets to count."You have descended from the heavens once more. Are you here to give us the shelter of your wings?" The way he said that seemed strange to me. It was as though he wasn't speaking of Gaia as a whole, but of a tighter circle of people. Then it hit me – an odd suspicion that I couldn't quite brush off. How had Allen known of my presence here? Hadn't Van mentioned that he wanted to keep my being here a secret? I looked at Van with a question in my eyes, hoping that he could understand what I was worried about without my having to say it out loud.

"Allen, how did you find out about Hitomi?"

I was pleasantly surprised that he had read my thoughts – or perhaps sensed what I was thinking. The older man shrugged and stood from his position on the floor. He was so much taller than I remembered. I felt dwarfed by the both of them. I saw that Allen's face had changed as well. All those years ago, his face has been smooth and flawless; now there were a few lines around his eyes. His skin was still beautifully pale, but it was weathered. Had he fallen on rough times just as Van had? A wave of compassion made me take a few steps forward. Without knowing why, I reached up and put my hands on his face. Immediately, I was assailed by images – pictures of battle, paintings of relentless ambition, portraits of undying desire. He had gone through hell itself to tread down the path that he believed was his. Though he tried to come off as an easy-going flirt, I suddenly understood that he was far from being so simplistic. This man had followed his dream; this man had achieved his goals; and now, this man was here to take something back that did _not_ belong to him.

"There are rumors all the way in Asturia already, aren't there?" I asked after the long silence. If he felt surprise at my inquiry, it did not show on his face. That steady, mischievous, smile still curved his sensual lips, as if he and I were sharing a private joke. He placed his hands over mine; immediately, I was snapped out of my trance, feeling flustered. "Someone saw Escaflowne," I continued, my eyes darting away from his. Putting the images I'd seen together, I tried to explain what was happening to Van. "Izgardia and Rintia have already heard these rumors as well. Allen is here to take me to Asturia."

"You've foreseen my intentions, Wing Goddess," the knight mused. "I should have known that there was no way I could hide them from your Sight."

I could feel Van's temper explode as if it were a bomb. He tore Allen's hands from mine and shoved me behind his back. I couldn't see the knight anymore; Van's form was like a looming shadow, blocking out all sunlight. Instinctively, I grasped his crimson cloak, hoping that a fight would not break out because of my stupidity. What had possessed me to behave as I had? How could I have touched Allen in such a familiar manner? Not that I'd meant anything by it! I just felt that there was something important I should see; that was all.

"You'll be taking her nowhere, _Schezar_," Van bit out angrily. I peeked around his broad frame, watching as Allen raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. His eyes were still sly as a fox's; that look was what had always frightened me. I never knew if he was serious or not.

"Naturally, I wasn't going to steal her away." His face suddenly turned grave. The change so was so quick that my heart leapt into my throat. Was this man always wearing a mask? I watched him closely, doing my best to decipher what was truly on his mind.

"However, Your Majesty, you should understand by now that there is no way you can protect her if she remains here."

"Asturia will be no better," Van replied without a pause. I could feel him tensing up, tight as a coil. Though I knew that I risked the safety of Fanelia by staying here, the thought of separating from Van terrified me. I tried to imagine myself sitting in an empty Asturian guest room, not knowing whether Van was safe or not. My mind screamed an adamant – _No!_ I wanted to say something in my own defense, but remembered that I had resigned myself to accepting whatever decisions Van made for me.

"Asturia is allied with Rintia. Izgardia will not dare an attack while this alliance is in effect," the knight went on.

"We would rather take her with Us to Salas then send her anywhere with _you_," was Van's thin-lipped reply. That easy-going smile was back on Allen's face. I wondered how he managed to stay so calm in the face of Van's obvious fury. He was, after all, a knight, and no knight was immune to punishment from any monarch. If Van wanted to, I was certain that he could imprison him for insubordination.

"If it is the Lady's virtue that concerns Your Majesty, I can assure you that my intentions are most noble."

I suddenly understood what was happening. Allen was mercilessly teasing the king of Fanelia, perhaps even _provoking_ him. I felt a wave of malice emanate from my king and rushed forward to stop what I was sure would turn into a physical spar. Pushing around Van's powerful arm, I threw out my hands between the two of them, doing my best to send each of them my most poisonous glare. Van looked at me in surprise; Allen just seemed even _more_ amused. Honestly, I didn't know what to say. If I defended Allen, I was worried that I would upset Van. If I said anything to Allen, I was worried that I would only encourage him. So, I just stood there, hoping that Van would cool off or that Allen would back down. I don't know how long I would have waited if a knock at the door hadn't interrupted us. Without needing Van's permission, someone in a lovely, violet, billowing dress entered the room. Immediately, I recognized the flowing, golden locks and the piercing grey eyes.

"Millerna!" I shouted, a pang of joy nearly knocking me over. When she saw me, her eyes widened, lips curving up in a sincere smile of excitement. Forgetting all about our difference in status, we rushed at each other, nearly suffocating ourselves with each other's warm hugs. It was as though the years had not passed by us; as though we had parted only yesterday. I couldn't believe that one of my best friends stood in front of me, hugging the life out me. I pulled away to get a good look at her. She had matured into a beautiful woman. On one hand, I was delighted to see how she had grown; on the other, I saw that – just like the others – the innocence was gone from her face. I wondered just how terrible this war had been and desperately I wanted it to end. My earlier dream of warning flashed before my eyes.

"I'd heard that you were back, but I didn't dare believe the rumors!" the queen exclaimed. I could see a sparkle of tears forming in the corners of her brilliant eyes. I had envied this woman once; I had known that I could never compete with her grace and elegance when it came to Allen. Now, however, I felt none of that. During our time together, we had grown so close that it was impossible to imagine any sort of negativity between us. She had saved my life too many times to count, and I had been more than glad to do the same. I was certain that I wouldn't hesitate to risk my safety for her even now. If the situation called for it, I would do everything in my power to help her. The queen's face grew somber.

"It's dangerous for you here, Hitomi. You must come back to Asturia with us." Frustrated that everyone and everything seemed determined to pull me away from Van, I grimaced. As if sensing my anxiety, was came to my rescue, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me against him. I felt that his anger hadn't abated in the least.

"Queen Millerna, please understand that We cannot allow the Wing Goddess to leave Fanelia," he stated. "Though We are deeply grateful for your offer to keep her out of harm's way, We cannot allow her out of Our sight."

"Van," Millerna cut in in a voice that could best be described as chastising. "So formal so early in the morning," she complained with a wink that reminded me of our days with the Abaharaki, when the tomboy princess would have cringed at the the thought of wearing a dress.

"I know what you're thinking," she warned, throwing a pointed look at the possessive way in which the king held me. Suddenly, I was self-conscious. "However, I must stress the seriousness of the situation we are in." This time, she looked at me, then at Allen. "In all of our peace talks, Izgardia has expressed the most interest in obtaining the Wing Goddess once she descended. The rumors will reach them soon enough, and once they do, _nothing_ – not even the Treaty – will prevent them from taking drastic measures to bring Hitomi to their side. That means _by force_, if necessary." At this, Allen stepped forward, his hand making the gesture for understanding. He addressed Van -

"Highness, I swear _on my life_ that she will not be harmed." For the first time since I heard him speak today, he sounded truly serious. There was no mirth in his expression, no joviality in his voice. I was appreciative of the moment – at last, I was seeing the true Allen Schezar, or so I thought. His nearness upset Van, I could feel it. His grip on me tightened; I could feel a growl building in his chest. This was the same hot-headed youth that I had met eight years ago, only he was hiding beneath several layers of self-control. My funny nerve was tickled, despite myself, and I tried to keep from giggling. Now was definitely not the opportune moment to express my humor. Still, I was touched that Van was still so protective of me.

"Hitomi will _not_ leave Fanelia. That is Our final decision."

Something moved in the corner of my eye and I turned to see a shadowed figure standing at the entrance of the room. I tugged on Van's sleeve, urging him to notice the strange presence. Instead of being wary, a genuine expression of relief crossed the king's face. He motioned for the stranger to come closer.

"Farir! You've finally returned from the harbor!" he exclaimed excitedly.

I was surprised to see Van so relaxed. From what I could remember, he had only shown such a carefree expression around me or Merle. Feeling irrationally piqued, I gripped Van's sleeve a little tighter. He patted my hand and I had to wonder if he believed that I was nervous. If only he knew that I was secretly possessive of his smile – that I wanted him to only look that way at me. The stranger came closer until his face was illuminated in the firelight. He wore ivory armor, just like Van had when I'd first seen him, but it was not as ornate as the king's. The symbol of Fanelia was etched into the pauldrons; a heavy, crimson tunic hung belong his knees. His hair was the vivid color of rust, reaching in shaggy waves down to his shoulders. He would have been handsome, if not for a long, thin scar trailing down the right side of his face. His eyes were a dark brown, nothing like Van's expressive wine. I was a little confused at that thought; would I always compare all men to my king?

"Your Majesty," the man called Farir greeted, bowing low at the waist. Who was this man? How could Van be so relaxed around him? It made no sense to me. One of the man's hands came up to rest against one shoulder - the universal sign for fealty. "Forgive my absence; I wanted to personally make sure that the Asturian ship was safely docked." His voice was mild and gentle; I thought it was almost soothing.

"On behalf of my country, I thank you for your concern," Millerna said, inclining her head. Farir greeted her politely and bowed again. He and Allen exchanged brief words of greeting, but I could tell that something was odd between them. Their friction was almost tangible.

"Farir, allow me to introduce her Eminence, the Wing Goddess." Van pushed me forward. I balked at the honorific he had given me. There was no way that I deserved to be called by such a grandiose title. I wanted to scoot back into Van's shadow, to hide behind him as I had earlier. Certainly there was no need to introduce me like this. I was just a girl; just an ordinary girl from Earth. Even after everything that had happened here on Gaia, I held no delusions about my identity. I was no Goddess!

"Please, just call me Hitomi," I quickly cut in. But Farir was already kneeling before me, his stance even lower than it had been for the King of Fanelia and Queen of Asturia. I saw Allen smile; Millerna's face hinted at amusement. It seemed that I was the only one left out of some inside joke.

"Your Eminence, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine seeing you before me. I shall happily lay down my life for you, just as I would for His Majesty the King."

What can I say? I was overwhelmed. For someone to bow to me, to make such a vow to me – someone who had met me for the first time and knew nothing about the horrible weakling that I was – was an event that shocked me into silence. I felt faint. Allen's smile had turned into a smug beam. Millerna's eyebrows were furrowed. Did she also see how ridiculous it was for such a man to kneel before a simple girl? I was so caught up in my thoughts, that when I heard Van chuckling behind me, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Farir, you may stand." Obediently, the man rose. "Hitomi, this is my brigadier general, Farir. I trust this man with my life and with the lives of my subjects." He had slipped back into the informal way of addressing himself. I wondered if anyone else had noticed. Even if they had, I felt much more at ease. It was still difficult for me to get used to how his position had changed. Worried that it might be rude to stay silent, I volunteered my hand for a handshake. Instead of pumping it up and down, as was the custom on Earth, he took my hand in his calloused palm and brought it to his lips. I would have been surprised and confounded by his actions, but something terrible happened –

Just like the instant that I'd shared with Allen, images flooded into my mind, breaking past a dam I hadn't known I'd placed there. I couldn't see clear pictures this time, but I felt emotions. I knew that this was important. My visions had never come to me without a reason. Despite the discomfort I was feeling, I understood that I had to be strong and try to make sense of what was happening. Feeling around for clues to danger was taxing on my still recovering body, but I didn't care. The shadow with the glowing red eyes from my dreams haunted me still, and I was determined to know who it threatened and _when_. I closed my eyes and concentrated, sifting through anxiety, fierce pride, and bravery. I knew that to be Van's trusted general must require a man to possess these qualities; however, it was very different feeling these emotions _myself_. For the umpteenth time, I realized what a fool I had been to give into my despair on Earth.

"What do you see, Hitomi?" someone asked me. Could I answer? I had yet to witness anything ominous. I pushed myself until I thought my legs would give way. At last, something snapped. I gasped as I was thrown headlong into a vision…

* * *

…………………………………….

"_We must not give into their threats!" A man at the table said. His strong voice echoed throughout the room. I looked around at my surroundings, trying to memorize all the details that I could. _

"_We will have no choice, Councilor! If their army continues to break through our defenses, they will have taken Karim!" Another man shouted. _

_I couldn't see their faces. _

"_Karim is our main military base! It cannot fall!" interrupted a third man. _

_The first man I'd heard speaking slammed his fist down on the table. "The Goddess has Seen it! We must hold our ground or risk being overwhelmed!"_

"_Your Eminence, we must strike immediately. The Goddess's visions are not always accurate. If we miss this opportunity, we may never have another chance to crush the Rebellion on the western border!" _

_Another figure rose out of his seat. He was making angry gestures as he spoke – _

"_What you speak of is blasphemy, General! The Goddess will guide us into a new age of prosperity!"_

_A full-blown argument broke out. For a while, I couldn't tell separate phrases or voices apart. I wanted to tune out their terrible yelling, but I couldn't. Goddess? Were they talking about me? At last, a calm voice broke through the others – _

"_Calm yourselves, Gentlemen. We will make no headway shouting at each other like animals." _

_He was the one in charge. _

_Immediately, all those standing fell back into their seats. I thought the voice sounded familiar, but when I tried to discern the shadow's face, I couldn't see anything but white eyes. After silence once again permeated the room, he went on – _

"_There are good points in all the theories mentioned here today. Yes, the Goddess has predicted that we must hold our position at Karim if we are to safeguard it. However, we did not consult her on the progress of the other fronts. I believe that we must speak to her again." _

_At this suggestion, another figure rose. This time, it was a smaller shape, closer to the end of the table farthest from the leader._

"_Eminence, I cannot condone another attempt. Any further pushing could endanger her life!" _

"_And any further delay could endanger the lives of everyone here!" was the leader's reply. I tried to move closer to him, but moving in this dream was equal to trying to outrun quicksand. My limbs were trapped in thick molasses; I was helpless. _

_My surroundings were fading; the vision was slipping away from me. I hurried to gather whatever information I could about the room before my world went black._

* * *

……………………………………..

"Hitomi! Hitomi, speak to me!"

"Van, don't shake her, we don't know if she hit her head…"

I opened my eyes to a blurry outline of people. The first one I recognized was Van. Desperately, I grabbed a handful of his tunic and pulled him down.

"Karim," I managed to say through chattering teeth. I was shaking so bad that I feared jumbling my words together. "Karim is in danger…it will be swept away…"

"Karim?" Came Allen's panicked voice from somewhere. "That's our main military base! It cannot fall!"

Déjà vu, I thought vaguely. Had it been Allen speaking in my vision? No, that wasn't possible. Allen would never sound so out of control. I shook my head to clear the fog that was settling over my thoughts. I knew what fainting felt like and I was pretty sure that I was headed in that direction. Unwilling to relinquish consciousness before I let everyone know what I had Seen, I continued –

"There was a…red room…with golden curtains. Columns of stone…" Those were the only characteristics I could immediately recall. Someone put a cold cloth on my forehead; it felt blissful. My legs were numb and my stomach heaved; I thought I would be sick. There was murmuring above me.

"A red room?" Allen asked.

"There is such a room in our residence in Palas," Millerna offered. "I believe it is currently being used by the Councilors for war meetings."

Their voices faded into the background. Now, all I could see was Van and Farir, looking down at me through a white mist. I tried to lift my hand, to reach out and smooth out the line that had etched itself between my king's dark eyebrows, but succeeded only in moving a finger.

"Your Majesty, what do you need me to do?" Farir's voice was quiet, calm. Now I knew why Van had chosen this man to fill the position of his general. I could imagine him keeping his cool in any situation, be it war or simple mishap.

"Hitomi?" Van called, ignoring his friend. I nodded to let him know that I was listening. "Hitomi, does anything pain you?" I shook my head.

"Please don't look so worried, Van. I'll be alright if I just…sleep for a little while…" After that, I knew no more.

* * *

…………………………..

**Author's Notes: (a.k.a me commenting on some things)**

**Well, I'm pretty satisfied with the way this chapter went. Many of the characters have finally met each other, and the plot is rolling at a good pace. **

**I hope you guys enjoyed reading this piece. Rest assured that the next one is coming very soon! **

**Please tell me what you think.**

**Your loving author, **

**FantomBlack **


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